Through These Albino Eyes
by Flashback 1701
Summary: Gilbert is struggling to support himself and his kid brother, Ludwig, and if that weren't enough, he's surrounded by ghosts only he can see. Life can't possibly get any more chaotic until he runs into an old friend and everything spirals out of control.AU
1. Chapter 1: Who He Saw

Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt will never get a girlfriend. He works more jobs than he can count on one hand, he raises his kid brother, and he talks constantly to people no one else can see. Then, one day, an old friend comes back to town on a break from college and manages to turn his life on its ear. Maybe romance isn't so far off after all...

A quick note: the age gap between Gilbert and Ludwig is slightly greater than it is in the canon and in the majority of this sort of "Gilbert raising Ludwig as a teenager" story.

Contains PruHun (as seen in the story info).

Disclaimer: Do I really need to tell you that I don't own Hetalia? I would have thought that to be obvious by now...

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><p>Chapter 1: Who He Saw<p>

There were many explanations as to why he saw them: some people reckoned it had to do with his albinism, others believed it to be a side effect of having nearly died as a child, the majority simply agreed that he was lying or insane and left it at that. However, the majority was wrong. Gilbert Beilschmidt saw ghosts; he'd seen them for as long as he could remember.

Unfortunately, perceived madness was not the only burden shouldered by the young man.

Ever since he'd turned eighteen, Gilbert had been saddled with the responsibility of raising his brother, nine years his junior. Promptly following his graduation from high school (he'd been held back a year), he had gone job hunting and been rewarded with one nightshift and several odd jobs around the city just east of the middle of nowhere.

Now, replacing the mop in the custodian's closet at the hospital, he sighed. Working as the graveyard shift janitor hadn't exactly been his lifelong dream and he hated the cold, sterilized building. Only in a hospital would he see as many of them as he did. Ghosts, that is.

Tonight, an almost-skeletal old man trailed behind a small crowd of mourners as they left the hospital in tears, clearly having just lost a member of the family. The halls rang with the collection of cries from the infants who had never been born and the children who had never left, rewarding the young man with a pounding headache that would follow him home where he would collapse into bed for an hour or so until Ludwig had to be woken up for school.

"Hey, Beilschmidt, you're looking like hell today." Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, a nurse practitioner only a few years older than Gilbert, came up and clapped him on the shoulder. "Working overtime again?"

"What, to clean it up when you make some poor little kid puke again? No thanks."

"You know that was an accident – I just needed some practice using the tongue depressors."

"And you used me as your practice dummy," he grunted, drawing a hand across tired eyes. "So what's up, Tony?"

"Nothing much. Lost that old guy up in room 201, though. He was barely holding on as it was."

Gilbert grimaced. "Yeah, I saw his family coming through. Shame."

"Yup."

They stood awkwardly in the lobby, both sneaking simultaneous glances at the clock behind the front desk. Death was almost a formality to them, something that happened much more than any person would have liked but was entirely unavoidable either way.

"Five o'clock," Antonio said eventually, stretching his arms up over his head with a yawn. "Time to start heading out."

"Yeah, I've gotta wake up Lutz in two hours."

The Spaniard waved as he retreated in the direction of the staff parking. "'Morning, Gil."

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><p>The bike ride home was cool and refreshing at the early hour – the sun was just beginning to peer over the horizon in a brilliant display of pale yellow – however, Gilbert found that he couldn't exactly enjoy it this morning. It was a Wednesday, the day he had to run to the middle school to work as a handyman for a shift before running out to the pawnshop in town where he would hopefully make some sales to pay for a new pair of shoes for Ludwig. When the hell had kid's sneakers gotten to be so expensive?<p>

"Hey! Watch out!"

Attention snapping back to the road a fraction of a second too late, Gilbert found himself being flung over the handlebars and onto the hood of a car. Winded and in a state of utter confusion, he rolled away and landed ungracefully with the back of his head to the asphalt.

"Oh my god, Gilbert?" The vehicle was shifted into park, and the driver sprang out and dashed around to the injured cyclist. "Is that you?"

"Fuck…" he groaned, staring up at the sky from his position flat on his back.

A familiar silhouette cut into the nearly colorless sky, fixing the man with a particularly accusatory, green glare. "Ever heard of a helmet, moron?"

Now he knew exactly who it was. Indeed, she was practically impossible for him to forget. "Sorry, Liz, I didn't think I was gonna get into a hit and run this morning."

"Oh shut up." Even as the young brunette snorted at him, he could sense her guilt. "You were the one who wasn't watching where you were going."

"Sorry. Coming home from a graveyard shift isn't exactly the best time to be paying attention, you know?" Fingers exploring the bloody mess he'd once called his elbow, Gilbert cast a curious look up at his longtime friend. Elizabeta Héderváry, Hungarian (Magyar, she called it) and beautiful, had been his next door neighbor when they were growing up. However, like all of his other friends (well, maybe former friends now – the dicks never called), she had chosen to attend a college beyond the reaches of their hometown.

"Still working at the hospital?"

"Yup."

"Still seeing…" She paused, glancing away briefly. "You know."

"Yeah."

She'd known his secret since tenth grade, but it would be a lie to say that she hadn't heard before then. The rumors were like a stench, always gusting around the hallways at school and soiling the conversations. Gilbert had been used to it by then – the accusations, the fear, the distrust. If people asked, he told them the truth, then the rumors would swell and poison his reputation all over again. Elizabeta had been different.

"Anyone interesting?"

"Nah, just a bunch of stiffs." It was a weak joke, but it managed to bring a hint of a smirk to her pink lips. He almost chuckled himself, but found his head swimming with both fatigue and the possible onset of a concussion. The numbness from the scrape on his arm was beginning to wear off in favor of a sharp, burning pain.

"How's Ludwig?"

"Sleeping, like I wanna be." Gilbert glanced at his watch, not missing the disappointed look on the other's face. "Hey, look, I gotta work until two… three… seven tonight, but if you're free…"

He let it hang, the invitation like a baited line cast into the sea. Finally, she nodded.

"I'm free."

"Cool." Standing a tad too quickly, the albino almost tripped over the crumpled ruin of his bicycle (a garage sale find that had lasted him almost two years). He righted himself, then added, "You owe me a new bike."


	2. Chapter 2: Why He Bothered

A/N: I've made a few tweaks to the story since the first chapter was posted. For one thing, Gilbert will call Ludwig "Lutz" rather than "West" in this universe.

For those of you who were concerned with Gilbert being hit with a car and not going to the ER, my feeling was that Elizabeta sort of assumed that he was fine once he started talking. That, and she was going to wait for him to say something before she took him because his pride's power level is over 9,000.

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><p>Chapter 2: Why He Bothered<p>

The duplex loomed eerily before him in the half-light of dawn, somehow managing to appear greater than its one level height. Fumbling for a moment with his keys, Gilbert opened the swollen door with a swift kick that made it swing back on its hinges. It was at this time of day that he always had to bite his tongue to avoid calling out a relieved declaration of, "I'm home!" for fear of waking Ludwig before it was time. Instead, the weary man dragged his damaged bicycle into the family room where he leaned it haphazardly against the wall before collapsing onto the sofa.

The woman who had lived in their section last sobbed quietly in the corner, the bruises on her face and around her neck giving her reason enough.

Gilbert rolled onto his side, eyes still closed, and grumbled, "Look, I'm sorry your husband was a total douche bag, but could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Looking affronted, the apparition glitched like a poorly tuned television set before vanishing completely. She'd be back, of course. He knew it, she knew it, and it was only a matter of time before he finally broke down and actually did something about it. However, she only ever showed up when he was returning home from his night shift, and that was a time he never had the slightest desire to speak.

But he had this morning.

Briefly Gilbert wondered what had brought Elizabeta back from her studies. It was summer, he supposed, and, though Ludwig still had a few more weeks of school to finish up, it seemed as though the population of college-aged kids (in other words, people in his age group – since when had he begun calling them "kids"?) had increased within the past couple of days. He rubbed at his dry eyes, wondering what his peers would be doing over the vacation. Partying, probably, and doing all those wonderfully immature activities he couldn't seem to cram into his busy work schedule. Maybe this raising his brother thing had had a positive effect on him after all. Maybe he didn't want it to.

"Fuck…" It was five forty-nine. In exactly one hour and twelve minutes, he would be waking said brother for school before setting out for his day job. Somehow, knowing the approximate amount of time he had left to sleep just made his insomnia worse.

"Is it true you see ghosts?"

Gilbert turned from his wrestling match with the cheap window blinds in his brother's bedroom. Sitting upright on the bed in the half-flattened nest of bed sheets, Ludwig fixed the older male with a curious look. He was ten this year, finishing up fourth grade and already as solemn as a monk.

"What brought that up?" he asked, noting silently that his sibling's pajamas were getting too small and that the sheets probably needed to be washed for the month. "No one's giving you shit at school, are they?"

The blonde squirmed for a moment, lips tugged into a small frown, before shaking his head. "No… b-but there was a boy in my class who said you could."

He snorted. Of course there was. All around their side of the city, ever since Gilbert had been young, the whispers had swarmed the streets like tiny biting insects. It had all begun with that incident in kindergarten and would be less likely to find rest than the weeping woman in the corner of the family room.

Now thoroughly peeved, he sent a sharp glance in Ludwig's direction. "If they start laughing at you, kick the assholes into next week."

"B-but I'm not supposed to start fights at school…" He looked conflicted, wanting to please his brother but also wanting to uphold the holy teachings of the public elementary school's student handbook. "I could get kicked out…"

"Then point 'em out to me when I come to pick you up and _I'll _take 'em out for you." Gilbert mimed a few quick jabs, ducking his head comically as he shadowboxed. This earned a small giggle from the blonde on the bed. Smirking in satisfaction, he continued, "You think I'm kidding? You don't think I'm gonna let 'em give you shit like that, do you?"

"No." Looking proud, Ludwig leaned forward onto his hands as he watched the albino bob and weave. The admiration in his bright blue eyes sent a wave of affection sweeping over the man, and he play tackled his brother back into the mattress with a half-smothered cackle.

"Chin up, Lutz!" he ordered, the other's pale, flaxen head trapped in the crook of his elbow. "You're going somewhere in the world!"

"Y-yeah!" Ludwig managed, twisting out of the other's grasp. Then, standing tall in his too-short pajama pants and faded t-shirt, he announced, "I'm gonna make super fast cars!"

"That's my little brother." A bony hand ruffled the soft, blond locks. "Now look sharp and get dressed. I'll get some breakfast together, 'kay?"

"Okay." Beginning to slide off the bed, he paused to meet his caretaker's tired gaze with a familiar air of resolve. When it came down to it, he could be just as stubborn as Gilbert himself. "But you didn't answer my question. You don't see ghosts, do you? I mean, they're not real… right?"

His eyes were burning this morning – probably dry from the contacts he'd worn all night against the advice of his doctor. Massaging them with the heels of his hands, he sighed. He would never be able to escape without answering the question.

"Yeah, Lutz, I see 'em." Then, with the image of Ludwig's visible apprehension fresh in his mind, Gilbert turned and swaggered down the narrow hallway to the kitchen, wondering (as always) if it wouldn't be easier to just lie.

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><p>Having successfully dropped Ludwig at his school building, Gilbert continued his trek to the middle school thirteen blocks away. By now the sun was settled against a blue backdrop, wisps of white cloud already drifting across the sky framed by the surrounding buildings. A businessman slouched wearily on the curb to his left, a smoldering cigarette clenched desperately between two fingers.<p>

"Y'know, there's no point in hanging around." Gilbert grunted to him. Hands jammed causally in his pockets, he glanced at the pavement as though looking for a dropped item. "It's not like you can go back."

The man turned, revealing that a good portion of his face had been destroyed in what had probably been a crash. He inhaled wordlessly before expelling the cancerous smoke through his nose, mouth, and forehead.

"Just a thought."

Silently, the spirit resumed his vigilant watch of the empty street, his cigarette glowing faintly as he inhaled a breath that didn't exist.

Gilbert ran an exasperated hand through his hair and continued his walk to the school. He didn't know why he bothered talking to them – it wasn't as though he was an exorcist with the ability to drive them away or that his words could give them rest. If anything, it seemed that his recognition had them coming back for more conversation. The whole damn situation threw an enormous wrench into the workings of his practically nonexistent social life. Who wanted to befriend a guy who talked to empty park benches and alleyways? With a sigh, the albino acknowledged that it had become a fact of his pathetic life that he was more likely to be hauled off to a funny farm than get laid.


	3. Chapter 3: Where He Worked

A/N: Gilbert does not literally work "more jobs than he can count on one hand". He works four jobs: night shift at the hospital, mornings doing custodial work at the middle school, afternoons being a clerk at the local pawnshop, and evenings working the concession stand at a theater. He also doesn't work these jobs everyday - he works various days throughout the week.

Some intro to future PruHun and some friends who aren't among the living.

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><p>Chapter 3: Where He Worked<p>

"'Morning, Lilli," he greeted the blond girl waiting at the janitor's closet. Like the man on the street, he had once tried to make her release her hold on the faint glimmer of a former life and had failed spectacularly; instead of convincing her to move on, he'd somehow made her believe that he needed a constant companion while he completed his handyman tasks around the middle school.

"Hi Gilbert," she murmured shyly. Her eyes had always seemed just a tad too big for her face, resting on him with a rich jade-blue that shone with trust. As far as he'd heard, Lilli Zwingli had died some years before due to an extreme allergic reaction to some sort of nut (the food kind, not the kind Gilbert considered himself to be). Prior to that, her older brother had raised her, foregoing his own education to provide for their broken family. Perhaps he reminded her of that brother, wherever he was.

To be quite honest, Gilbert had always felt a sort of kinship with the unknown man, wondering what the poor sap had done with himself when his sister had passed. He wondered what _he _would do if his own younger sibling died suddenly – probably curl into a corner under a bridge somewhere and fade out of physical existence penniless and without the motivation to work.

Shuddering, the albino straightened up with a sigh. "What've we got today? Leaky pipes? Graffiti?"

"Um… 'Suzy's a bitch' is in the first stall in the girl's bathroom near the gym, two of the library's shelves are broken, and seven lockers on the far side of the school are jammed." It was a definite advantage to have a live-in assistant in the building. Lilli always told him what she saw or heard as she wandered the school, and he would fix it.

"Thanks, kid."

She hesitated, blushing at his gratitude before adding softly, "They're teasing Raivas again."

"There are bullying assholes in every generation, aren't there?" Adjusting his key ring on his belt, the man snorted. "Point him out for me, Lilli. I'll talk to him the moment I get those damn pencils out of the ceiling."

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><p>With the majority of the potential tragedies avoided, Gilbert left the middle school and ventured further into town. His shift at the pawn shop was, undoubtedly, his favorite of the assorted jobs he'd taken. There was something about the earnest struggle to make the sale that he truly enjoyed, and the stories behind some of the items brought in were actually pretty damn interesting.<p>

The owner of the store, a man of Egyptian descent who spoke little but to inquire about a sale, had an incredible eye for valuables and knew quite a bit about the history of almost everything.

"Hey Mr. Hassan," the albino called as he elbowed through the door at the front. Eyes sweeping over the shelves and display tables stacked with randomly assorted items, he nodded towards a small, stuffed bear. "What's this one?"

"Old." His employer emerged from the backroom, expression as unreadable as ever. "A collector's piece."

"Right." Gilbert forced himself to look past the oddly-dressed boy staring wistfully up at the toy.

"Take the register," the older man instructed. "I'm leaving early today. Family matter."

Without another word, he strode over to the door and walked out.

"Who are you?" Gilbert asked the moment Mr. Hassan had closed the door.

The boy tilted his head almost mournfully and whispered, "I'm Matthew," as though he'd repeated it every day of his life.

"Well, look Matthew… Matt." He crossed his arms. "You can't be here… it'd be better if you just went on, y'know? Can you see some sort of light or anything?"

"But I want Kumataro…"

"The hell kinda name is 'Kumataro'?" Gilbert noted the other's pale skin and blond hair, and raised an eyebrow. "You aren't Japanese are you?"

"N-no… but my friend who named him was." Matthew fidgeted, peering up from behind a pair of antiquated spectacles. "Um… C-can I have Kumairo back now?"

"I thought you just said his name was Kumataro."

"Kumasuke? Kuma… Kumamaru? Oh no, I forgot again!" His mild indigo eyes welled up with tears, successfully activating the older male's brotherly instincts.

Taking the boy into his arms, Gilbert knelt and patted him firmly (if awkwardly) on the back. "Hey, it's okay….c'mon, kid, it doesn't really matter…"

Matthew looked devastated. "B-but if I can't remember, Kumakyo will get mad at me and he'll forget my name, too."

"Gilbert?" The door jingled as it opened to reveal a smiling, confused Elizabeta. "What are you doing?"

It occurred to him then that hugging a child like Matthew in broad daylight in the middle of the pawnshop probably looked completely and utterly ridiculous. He set the boy aside hastily.

"Um, see…" With a sheepish grin, the albino gestured first to the seemingly empty space beside him, then to the white teddy bear on the shelf. "This is Matthew. It turns out that he owns that bear."

"Oh…" Elizabeta's eyes travelled slowly from the plush toy, then to where she assumed Matthew to be standing (about a foot over his head). Suddenly, realization flickered across her face and she gasped. "Oh!"

"It's nice to meet you." Matthew offered a tentative hand to her.

Gilbert cleared his throat. "He, uh, he says it's nice to meet you… and he wants you to shake his hand."

"It's nice to meet you, too." Thinking quickly (as she always had), the young woman held up her hands in front of her with a friendly giggle. "I'd shake your hand, but I've got a bit of a cold and I don't want you to get sick, too."

"Oh, I see." The boy shyly pressed his glasses back up his nose, then after a brief hesitation turned to the albino. "C-can't she see me?"

Seeing no reason to lie, Gilbert shook his head. "No."

"Why not? A… am I invisible?" Then the terrible moment of realization. "I'm not d-dead, am I?"

This was always the most difficult question to answer. When he was asked this, he could always see the faint shimmer of hope in the interrogator's eyes. He knew what they wanted to hear, but he also knew that it was the one thing he could never tell them.

"Yeah."

"Is Alfred dead, too?" He was upset again, sniffling through a leaky nose. "A-and Momma and Papa?"

"I dunno… probably."

"B-but I don't w-wanna be alone… I wanna g-g-go home…"

Elizabeta was watching him again, looking irritated that she couldn't tell what was happening. However, when Gilbert gave her a look of the purest desperation, she stepped forward.

"What's wrong?"

"He's afraid to move on and he doesn't wanna be alone."

"Then how about this?" She gently took the bear off the shelf, hugging it to her chest. "I'll take this, and he can stay with me until he's ready."

"R-really?" Matthew sniffled, the sorrow in his expression quickly being replaced with shock.

"Really?" Gilbert echoed him, more for himself than for the purpose of relaying the question. The grin on his friend's face sent pleasant shivers up his spine as she nodded.

"That way, you _have_ to take the time to stop by," she laughed as mischievously as she had when they were growing up together. "And he'll have someone to keep him company."

"You can't see him."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"That bear costs some five hundred bucks."

"What?"


	4. Chapter 4: What He Remembered

A/N: This will probably be the last time you see such a quick update (school starts tomorrow - yay senior year!). However, the story really begins to find its rhythm from here on out (I think), and Gilbert and Elizabeta's relationship begins to develop.

Also, I'm sorry I've changed my summary, like, five times. I'm really bad at making those, and they're only allowed to be 255 words long - that's practically nothing!

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><p>Chapter 4: What He Remembered<p>

Standing in tiny shower cubicle, surrounded by cheaply tiled walls and drenched in lukewarm water (the hot water heater was acting up again), Gilbert irritably forced the brightly cherry-scented shampoo (that he shared with Ludwig) through his tangled, platinum blond locks. Another ghost, another sob story, another freaking load to join all the others he should've stopped carrying ages ago. These people's lives weren't his business, and their afterlives shouldn't have been his business, either. For some reason, he just kept letting them in.

His hands ceased their lathering as he heaved a chest-splitting sigh. He'd always wondered if there were others like him in the world (and there _had _to be – it wasn't possible that he was the _only_ albino freak-of-nature on the planet), and if they, too, faced the struggles he did. Perhaps these potential "others" had simply learned early on to just ignore the dead and lived in relative ease. Perhaps it was time he learned to do the same.

"Gilbert?" A knock at the bathroom door broke through his thoughts. "Are you in there?"

"Yeah, Lutz." He tied his towel around his waist, stepping out onto the bathmat and shuddering when the cooler air kissed his wet skin. "What'dya need?"

"There's a girl here for you," Ludwig answered. "She's really nice and she says her name is Eliza… Elizabeta. Can I let her in?"

"Shit! Uh… yeah. Let her in." Whipping the towel from his hips, he hastily dried his hair. He'd finally taken the time to shower for possibly the first time in at least three days, and _this_ happened. So much for freaking hygiene.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Elizabeta lifted a thin, arching brow as Gilbert jogged into the sitting room with his shirt sticking to his damp back. "Ludwig said you were in the shower."

"Did he?" The albino cast a look at the boy cowering just beyond the doorframe. "I told him not to tell people that."

"What'd you tell him to say?"

"To fuck off until we're not busy."

"That sounds just like you." She giggled. "God, you haven't changed a bit."

"Well, not all of us are college folks," was the falsely light-hearted response. He said it as though he'd had a choice. "I mean, what're you studying again? Human communications or some other bullshit subject?"

"International relations." Her reply was sharp, as though it had been tattooed to the insides of her eyelids lest she forget. "I'm already pretty fluent in Magyar since my old man's side of the family speaks practically nothing else, so I figure I could at least get a job as an ambassador to Hungary."

"You gonna work out there or over here?"

Elizabeta raised her left shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "Depends I guess. I want to travel and see the world, so maybe I'll go abroad."

"Oh yeah?" He felt his heart sink into a mire of jealousy and irritation. What greater power had decided that she would be allowed just flit causally through life from continent to continent without pausing once to consider the poor, helpless losers who had finally found someone to talk to before said someone died?

"Um… Gilbert?"

Sneaking a glance at the blond boy cowering just beyond the doorway, Gilbert felt a smirk at his lips. "You can come in, Lutz. You met Liz, right? Liz, you remember Ludwig."

She nodded, leaning down to match the child's height and smiling kindly. "Hey there, Ludwig. You might not remember me, but I've known your brother for a long time."

Ludwig nodded silently, gazing shyly at the woman (such a strange creature to be lurking in their living quarters). "Are you Gilbert's girlfriend?"

Mouth falling open with a mixture of horror and embarrassment, the albino whirled to offer an excuse to his old friend only to find her laughing. Ouch.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're the only girl who's ever come here before," he pointed out innocently, clearly oblivious to his brother's wilting pride. "And my brother gets gooey eyes when he looks at you… like they do when they're in love on TV."

"'Gooey eyes,' huh?" Elizabeta snickered, brushing her fist teasingly against the man's bicep. His cheeks burned crimson and he looked away.

"Isn't it your bedtime or something?" Grunting peevishly, he ushered his protesting sibling from the room. "Go on, brush your teeth and get your ass in bed, 'kay?"

"Okay."

As the brothers disappeared down the hallway, their guest took the opportunity to really examine the duplex. The cheap hardwood floors were out on display for lack of rugs, and the sofa seemed ready to cave in. Turning on her heel, she found the walls to be in need of a paint job and the window to be rather dirty, but it only gave a view of a poor neighborhood, a reminder of the boys' current position, when cleaned. All that aside, the residence seemed to offer a faint warmth, a comfortably intimate feel that fit perfectly with Elizabeta's view of the owner.

"Sorry you had to see this dump," Gilbert mumbled as he reentered the room, a hand carding anxiously through his hair in a familiar gesture dating back to their elementary school days. "I'm trying to save up so that we can move into a nicer area, but… well, you know how that is."

When she made no comment, he caught her gaze sheepishly. "I mean, uh, actually I don't know if you know, so…" He cleared his throat.

"How are you, Gilbert?"

Pretending not to catch the prying implications of the simple query, he shrugged, motioning for her to join him in the kitchen with an easy jerk of his head. "Tired, I guess. It was a long day, but I made a few good sales down at the shop."

"You might've mentioned that the stupid thing cost a small fortune," she said sweetly, forcing the words through smiling teeth. "But then again, I guess that's the mark of a true salesman, right?"

"What? My ingenious sales techniques or my sparkling personality?"

"And here I thought we were talking about you."

Gilbert set the electric kettle to work and dug around the cabinets until he found a small box of tea bags and a container of instant coffee. With one in each hand, he turned to his guest with the teasing façade of a high class host. "Which would you prefer, madam?"

"Coffee, please," she laughed. "But really, Gilbert, how are you?"

There was something deliberate in the manner in which he presented his back to her. "Just barely clinging to my sanity. Other than that, life's great. Couldn't be better."

"Maybe you need a girlfriend." Her bright eyes twinkled impishly. Gilbert snorted.

"Who wants to date a guy who's raising his little brother, talks to himself, and works more jobs than he can manage?" He shook his head firmly, as though convincing himself as well as the young woman sitting the kitchen table. "I don't got the time, anyway; I work the nightshift at the hospital three times a week, and when I'm not doing that, I'm trying to catch up on sleep."

"I'm sure you'd make up for it with your 'sparkling personality'."

"Oh yeah, definitely."

They refused to allow their eyes to meet then, choosing instead to silently observe the other until they realized they were both staring and quickly glanced away. Finally, the kettle whistled and saved them from what would have most surely become a heated round of the "How Long Can I Look Before He/She Notices?" game.

"What about you?" Gilbert asked evenly, filling a chipped mug with boiling water. "You got a boyfriend tucked away somewhere? Don't tell me you're still dating that damned, frill-wearing pansy boy…"

"Roderich Edelstein?" Giggling with her nose wrinkled in amusement, Elizabeta shook her head. "I haven't seen him since we graduated."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, I got a Christmas card from him last year, but…" She shrugged. "He wanted to get married and have kids, I wanted to get out do something with my life. It was pretty obvious that relationship was doomed from the start."

"Aw, and I was just starting to like the guy."

"You swore repeatedly that you would hate his guts until you died and tried to break his fingers with your chemistry book."

Gilbert chortled suddenly at the memory. "That's 'cuz he told me I was an 'uncivilized imbecile who wouldn't have the slightest idea of how to properly use the information in that textbook'."

"And you said-"

"And I said, 'The hell are you talking about? I know how to use this shit,' and brought that sucker down right next to his hand." Sighing happily, he flashed a self-satisfied grin at the pretty brunette across the table. "God, that was fun – I thought he was gonna piss himself."

She hummed, tilting her head to rest her chin atop the heel of her hand. "Do you remember middle school?"

"When we hot glue-gunned all the lockers shut?"

"And the rubber hand from the Halloween store? "

"Ah! I almost forgot about that!"

Elizabeta stirred at the brown mixture in her cup, feeling the rush of nostalgia sweeping through her like a windstorm as she watched her longtime companion bent double with laughter. His distinctive chuckle hadn't changed over the years, though his rascally demeanor had faded somewhat to make room for responsibility and stress. However, she could still read the obstinate air of mischief that glimmered dimly in his weary, blood-tinted eyes. Suddenly it seemed as though he'd been resurrected, brought back to life from the worn, multi-tasking zombie she'd struck with her car barely 24 hours before.

"Hey, Gilbert?"

"Yeah?" He settled into his chair with the traces of a sneer flickering at the curling corners of his thin lips.

"I've missed you."

Though his expression read, "Really? You're not joking?" his spoken sediment was, "I've missed you like I'd miss a kick in the teeth."

"You've always been a masochist, huh?" she teased, knowing that him well enough to take his reply as, "I've missed you, too."

"And you've always been a psycho." Yawning, Gilbert stretched his hands up and back over his head. "So tell me, how've _you_ been, Liz?"


	5. Chapter 5: When He Lost It

A/N: There are quite a few chapters I have written right now, but I'm pacing myself and allowing for proper editing, etc. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this and I promise some more cute PruHun development ahead as well as some plot thickening.

Also, Mama Greece runs the hospital.

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><p>Chapter 5: When He Lost It<p>

"Hey, Gil?" Antonio waved a hand in front of the absent gaze of the albino custodian, hoping to rouse him before any of the serious hospital personnel appeared to demand why only one small patch of the hallway had been waxed over the course of the last twenty minutes. Glancing the power cord, he yanked it from the outlet and silenced the obnoxiously loud machine. "C'mon, snap out of it, man…"

"I'm almost done," he mumbled dreamily. Removing his sound-blocking headset and turning his dangerously glazed eyes onto the young practitioner, Gilbert asked, "You need it for something?"

With a soft chuckle, the brunette nodded. "We all need the floor, Gil."

"The floor?" Blinking owlishly, the man seemed to snap to attention. He glared down at the glossy surface he'd created by repeatedly waxing the same portion of rubber flooring, knowing that all it would take would be one patient or doctor to slip up on it to put him out of the job. "Damn it, I'm gonna have to put something on that…"

"Hey, man, what's got you so…" Antonio waved his hands around his head for a moment in attempt to convey his meaning. "Spaced?"

"Nothing, nothing." Reaching into his back pocket for a rag, he began wiping furiously at the floor. "Just tired, I guess."

"Is it a girl?"

"No."

"Is it a guy?"

"_No._"

The nurse smiled knowingly. "Is it a girl?"

"You really think I'm gonna change my answer that quick?"

"Do you really think I believed you the first time?" He threw a friendly arm around the other's thin shoulders, walloping him on the back a few times as he did. "Tell me, is she cute, or is it a desperation thing?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Laughing, Antonio explained in a less-than hushed tone, "No offense, man, but you're not exactly a lady magnet. 'Specially not with all this work you do – I'm not sure she'll be so in the mood for it when you get off the graveyard shift."

"You kidding? I can get any woman in the mood whenever the hell I want," Gilbert retorted at a pitch that bordered dangerously on whiny. "Not that it's any of _your _business, Mr. I've-got-a-boyfriend-waiting-for-me-at-home."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"You two!" The young men hadn't heard the sound of sharp heels clicking pointedly against the rubber tiling until it was too late and Director Karpusi was frowning at them from behind her narrow-lensed glasses. Setting her finely shaped hands on her ample hips, the woman caught both of their gazes with a snapping, peridot glare. "Are you going to stand here chattering like old women all night, or are you going to do what I'm paying you to do?"

"Right, sorry, ma'am." The nurse ducked his chocolate-locked head in an apologetic manner, biting at his lips to restrain from grinning and appearing disrespectful. "I'll catch you later, Gil."

"You seem a little less than focused tonight, Mr. Beilschmidt." Turning to study him with her unyielding eyes, the woman seemed to expect an answer to her unasked question.

"Sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

_Please, _he begged silently, determined not to allow his sudden apprehension to show on his face. _Please don't let me lose this job…_

"When I took you on, I understood that you held several positions with other employers. Is your working here going to affect your performance at your other jobs, or vice versa, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"No, ma'am."

"I also understand that you are raising your brother. How old is he?"

_Shit._

"Nine."

"And who's watching him while you're here working?"

"Ummm, the neighbor lady, Cheryl. I-if you'd call her-"

A shake of her head told him that she didn't believe a word he was saying. The director seemed pensive, heaving a great sigh and removing her spectacles to polish them carefully with a cloth drawn from the pocket of her dress jacket. "Mr. Beilschmidt, you understand that the hospital is undergoing budget cuts, correct?"

His blood ran cold.

"I'm afraid that I… we're going to have to let you go."

The words weren't coming, instead they seemed to crumble to dust the moment he attempted to string them together.

"You can consider this your two week's notice. You have until the first of July." Replacing her glasses on the bridge of her long, narrow nose, the older woman paused almost regretfully. "I apologize, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Fuck you." He made a blind swipe at recovery, missing his intended mark entirely and, to make good of his misspoken words, he threw down his rag with all the force he could manage without overly flamboyant movement. "Fuck you and this stupid fucking job! You can just find another poor bastard to clean up your messes at all hours of the night! Good luck!"

"Mr. Beilschmidt!" She raised her hand, as though to grab at his retreating back as he stalked down the hallway towards the exit. "Mr. Beilschmidt, _please!_"

Waving off her words with one last, irritable jerk of his hand, Gilbert turned the corner towards the stairs. A surprised-looking Antonio stood rooted to the landing, not moving as the albino man brushed past.

"Hey, wait! Gil!"

"I'll see ya 'round, Toni." With a defiant toss of his head, Gilbert snorted, "I'm too good for this bullshit, anyway, y'know?"

"Yeah." Laughing, the nurse lightly tapped his shoulder with his fist. "'Luck out there, Gil. I'll call you out for drinks sometime, 'kay?"

"Sure, sounds good."

"Go get her, man."

As he left, the former custodian didn't quite have the heart to remind his friend that he was a good two years under the legal drinking age. Instead, he let the warmth of the kind words carry him down the four flights of stairs, through the lobby, and into the darkness that always came shortly before the dawn.

* * *

><p>"Gilbert?" A small hand caressed his face before slapping it none too gently. "Gilbert, wake up! I've gotta get to school!"<p>

"Uuhn?" The man awoke with a low grunt of confusion, blinking slowly against the lingering remnants of a chaotic dream. "Lutz? That you?"

"Gilbert!" Ludwig stomped his foot impatiently, young face drawn into a stern expression. "If we don't leave right now, I'm gonna be late and then I won't get a certificate for perfect attendance!"

Yawning widely and wearily, his brother hauled himself off of the sofa. "I'm up, I'm up. D'you eat breakfast already, kid?"

"I did, so can we go now?"

Gilbert cast a dubious glance towards the kitchen counter, seeing what was left of a hastily eaten Toaster Strudel. "Yup, go get your shoes on-"

"I already have them!" By this time the blond boy seemed ready to all but cry in frustration. "Come _on!_"

Letting himself be ushered out the front door by his younger counterpart, the man couldn't help but realize that Ludwig was becoming perfectly capable of caring for himself. In a few years, he would probably only view Gilbert as a worthless deadweight who only ever seemed to be (compensating for whatever late-night work he might've found by then by) sleeping on the couch. Now thoroughly depressed, the albino slammed the door behind him so that it cracked ominously and followed the harried elementary student racing down the pavement ahead of him.


	6. Chapter 6: How He Stumbled Upon Disaster

A/N: So I've been looking around at some other fics, and I realized that my chapters are pitifully short. I'm really sorry about that... I just can't seem to drag them out past a certain point without them seeming like they're rambling. The next few chapters are only about a page and two thirds on Microsoft Word...

In the meantime, thank you for the feedback I've been getting. Though I'm not sure about the popularity of the story, I don't really mind seeing as I'm having a load of fun writing this.

About Ludwig: He's ten, though sometimes I feel like he acts younger than he is. I can't really remember how my brother acted when he was ten (that was, like, two years ago!), but I try to mix that innocence with the uncanny ability to understand things on a ridiculously simple-complex level like kids do.

I'll post the next chapter very soon (probably today) just because I want to get things to move along (maybe I'll be more pressured to write more, faster!).

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><p>Chapter 6: How He Stumbled Upon Disaster<p>

Things at the middle school had gone smoothly today, and business had been slow at the pawn shop all afternoon. Left with nothing to do but brood silently in the (unexpectedly painful) lightening of his work load, Gilbert sat slouched behind the counter, arms crossed and brow furrowed deeply. In all technicality, he was doing fairly well as far as payments and checking account balances went, but not well enough to be looking for a new home; not well enough to give Ludwig all the things he needed or deserved. He couldn't even bring himself to think about how they would pay for college someday.

Glancing up at the clock, he learned that it was closing time and that his shift at the movie theater would be starting in just under an hour. He busied himself counting out the bills in the register, placing the allotted amount into the bank bag for him to deliver on his way out. Then, locking the door behind him, he strode out into the early evening.

Ludwig had called him, as he always did, upon returning home. Excitedly, he had informed the older male of his scoring 110% on his math test (apparently there had been a good deal of extra credit or grade grubbing that had come into play) and of his trip to the school library. Gilbert had laughed, as he always did, saying that Ludwig was smart enough to get a scholarship someday and that he was extremely proud of how magnificently awesome the boy was becoming. The younger sibling would become bashful then, mumbling that he wasn't really _so _amazing and that he was getting a C in art class (though Gilbert still wasn't exactly sure how). Knowing that Ludwig would probably be asleep by the time he got off his theater shift, the man bolted determinedly for home in an effort to throw together some pitiful excuse of a meal for his brother before dashing off to the cinema.

The bank had been rather busy this particular Friday afternoon, and twenty minutes later, he found himself still struggling home past numbing thoughts and mental dilemmas.

"Need a ride?" Elizabeta's voice broke through his chaotic mindset and had him all but tumbling face first into the concrete. Recovering in barely enough time to keep himself on his feet, Gilbert set about adjusting his thin jacket as though only it had been thrown askew.

"Uh, sure. If you're headed my way," he answered as smoothly as he could, feeling her bright stare drawing him in. Coughing, the man looked away. "What're you doing driving around out here, anyway? Got some errands or something?"

"Actually, I was looking for you." She watched as he climbed stiffly into the passenger seat and fastened himself in with the seatbelt. "I wanted to talk to you… about Matthew."

"I told you that it would be a problem if you brought him home." Gilbert studied a dent in the hood of the car, convinced that it must have only come into existence only two days ago when he and his bike had met it so unceremoniously. "What's he doing?"

Glancing over at his old friend, he found her gnawing at her lower lip. Upon closer inspection, he discovered tired bags shadowing bloodshot eyes.

"Last night, I started to hear knocking." Though she endeavored to keep her tone calm, a slight waver made its way into her words and she shuddered. "Like someone was pounding on the walls. Then, when everything went quiet, I thought I could hear him crying…"

"Dammit," he swore, clenching his fists. "He's changing."

"What do you mean?"

Gilbert paused, mapping out the best way to explain. "Y'see, I've learned that if a ghost gets all wacked out about something or stays here too long, sometimes they'll start… changing."

"Changing?"

"Like poltergeists and that shit." The man shrugged. "At first they're cool people – dead, but not necessarily _bad._ Next thing you know, your bud Sam over there's chucking your shit across the room with one hand 'cuz he's mad with this whole 'earth bound' thing."

"And now that's happening to Matthew?"

"I'm guessing so."

Her grip tightened subtly on the steering wheel as they turned down his street. "And what can I do about it?"

"Uh, you're gonna have to call in an exorcist or a priest or something." He hopped out of the car and started up the drive, expecting her to follow. "I haven't been able to get any of these people to leave yet, which is a huge pain in the ass. You'd think that they'd just follow my awesome advice and move on to whatever the hell's waiting for them. Heaven or Valhalla or Nirvana… whatever the hell."

"D'you have anyone in mind?"

"I haven't been to a church in years, Liz. Not since the funeral." Fumbling with the keys, he entered the house calling, "I'm home!"

"Welcome home, Gilbert!" Ludwig emerged from the kitchen with a textbook under his arm. Flicking the blond bangs from his brow, he glanced over at Elizabeta and nodded politely. "Hello Miss 'Lizabeta, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you." She grinned and elbowed his brother. "Look at that, he's more of a gentleman than you are. How'd that happen?"

"What're you hungry for, Lutz?" The albino ignored her in favor of disappearing down the hall. "I'll throw something together while I get dressed for the theater, 'kay?"

"What do we have?"

"Mm… Mac'n cheese, potatoes, some leftover pizza, and some stuff I could use for grilled cheese."

"How about I cook something for you, Ludwig?" Elizabeta offered, taking the boy's hand in her own as she smiled. "I'm going to have to stay here for a little while, anyway, so I'll just make you dinner and Gilbert can go to work. Is that okay?"

The boy nodded solemnly, as though agreeing to take part in some sacred ritual. Then he paused.

"Are you pregnant?"

Inhaling sharply, the young woman forced a light chuckle despite the dusting of pink that had sprung up across her cheeks. "Why would you say that?"

"Because this kid at my school said that his dad got his mom pregnant when they were teenagers, so they had to get married and live together. Are you and Gilbert going to get married?"

"I'm not pregnant, Ludwig," she insisted firmly, wondering vaguely what exactly it was that children were talking about during their lunch break and at recess. Certainly, it was a good deal different than any conversation she and Gilbert had ever had during that time period. "I'm only staying here until… until the exterminator goes to my house and takes care of the bugs there."

"Well, in that case, I'm leaving." Emerging in his vest and tie, Gilbert jogged past, jamming the cap onto his head as he struggled not to laugh at his friend's apprehensive expression. "Try not to get pregnant while I'm gone, dear."

"Oh shut up, honey," Elizabeta snapped back, smiling angelically in a way that her inflection didn't quite match her face. "Have fun at work."

"Bye, Gilbert," his brother waved, one hand still clutching the young woman's. "I'll hold her here so she'll still be here when you get back."

"That's my boy." Snickering, he shut the door firmly behind him and began his journey to the cinema.


	7. Chapter 7: When He Wasn't Home

A/N: The chapter I promised - I apologize for the semi-lateness (as far as school nights). This is mostly Ludwig and Elizabeta bonding/interaction/fluff. The end is sort of sweet...

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><p>Chapter 7: When He Wasn't Home<p>

Ludwig eyed the woman over his steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese, his spoon clenched firmly in his fist as he silently evaluated her. Unlike Gilbert, she had managed to make the noodles the perfect not-chewy, not-crunchy texture, but she was also a stranger and this set him on edge.

"How do you know my brother?" he asked finally, following the inquiry with another mouthful of the orange-yellow pasta.

"We've been friends for a long time." Twirling her hair around her finger like the girls in his class, she mused, "But we didn't really hang out together outside of school after middle school. You were… three? Four?"

"Then… did you know my dad?"

Her eyes hardened slightly, and she nodded. "Yeah, I remember him."

"He died in a chemical fire at work," Ludwig said quite seriously. "Gilbert says that all he did was worked, anyway, so it served him right, but…"

Pausing, he bit his lip and didn't meet the young woman's gaze.

"What is it, Ludwig?"

"Now all Gilbert does is work and… and I don't want him to die."

Elizabeta reached over the table to ruffle his hair in a way that so much reminded him of his brother. "I don't think that's how it works."

"Hey, 'Lizabeta?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you know that Gilbert can see ghosts?"

"Yeah."

Pale blue eyes fixed onto the brunette, studying her suspiciously. "If he can see them, why do grownups always say that ghosts aren't real?"

"Because…" she considered this for a moment before nodding. "Because most grownups can't see the ghosts and they have problems believing anything that they can't see or prove with science and math."

"Is that why everyone always laughs at him?" There was a bitter edge to the question that oughtn't have come from a child's mouth. "There's a boy at my school whose sister was in school with Gilbert and he said that she said that Gilbert's a loser who wants attention."

The young woman's lips tightened for a moment as she considered this. She'd heard the others drawing their own conclusions from the truthful words of a struggling teenager. They'd always just shook their heads, commenting on his unfortunate lack of parents and how that must have affected him, the poor, poor boy.

"Do you believe what your brother says, Ludwig?" Elizabeta took up his hand in hers and looked deeply into his troubled eyes. "If you believe him, and I believe him, then it shouldn't matter what those other people think. But if the people who love Gilbert the most don't believe him, who can he trust?"

"You love Gilbert?" The blonde's brow furrowed in concentration as he frowned slightly at the young woman in front of him. "Are you sure you're not Gilbert's girlfriend?"

"Yup, pretty sure." Then, winking, she leaned across the kitchen table to whisper, "But, yes, I do love Gilbert… in my own way."

"Me, too." Ludwig nodded in agreement, a shy smile working its way across his lips. "My brother's really tough and he's always telling me to stand up for myself so that I don't get picked on for being a weenie. He also says that the worst thing that can happen to a man is getting beaten up by a woman."

Elizabeta laughed. "Do you know what woman beat up your brother?"

"Who?"

"Me." Pointing to the boy's now-forgotten bowl of macaroni, she adopted a stern expression that was ruined by the playful light in her dancing, green eyes. "Now eat."

Ludwig had showered and prepared himself for bed quickly and efficiently, already used to caring for himself upon his brother's absence.

"The worst are the thunderstorms," he confided in Elizabeta as she tucked him into bed. "I hate it when there's thunder and lightning, and Gilbert's away at work."

"Well, I'm here now, so if something happens, you can just call me in and I'll stay with you if you're scared." She promised, drawing his faded, Batman bedcover up to his chin. "Don't be afraid to ask for anything."

"Then…" he glanced up at her almost sheepishly. "C-could you give me a good night kiss?"

Without a word, she swooped down and planted her lips to his smooth, warm forehead. Then, grinning, the young woman asked, "Anything else?"

"Can you stay with us forever?" Ludwig murmured, face flushing as he attempted to hide beneath his blankets. "If you and Gilbert got married, we could have a family like everyone else has and Gilbert wouldn't have to work so hard 'cause you could share money…"

With a guilty pain in her chest, Elizabeta let her maternal instincts wash over her, and embraced the boy. "Ludwig, you're too sweet for your own good."

* * *

><p>Elizabeta jerked awake suddenly, confused and disoriented: she was sprawled across a surface that wasn't her bed, and she was still fully dressed. Reaching for the closest light fixture, she snapped on the light to find herself in the apartment of Gilbert's duplex, stretched across his ancient, wheezing sofa. Across the room sat Gilbert himself, sleeping uncomfortably (though deeply) in the tired armchair against the wall. His arms were crossed tightly over his slowly heaving chest, as though holding him together, but his expression was soft and welcoming. In the dim lighting of the sitting room, Elizabeta could almost imagine that the young man seated opposite of her hadn't aged a day since their high school graduation, that any second his eyes would fly open and he would reveal his latest genius plot amidst arrogant bouts of cackling. Instead, Gilbert only grumbled, brow furrowing against the lamplight, before drawing in a deep, grunting snore.<p>

When she'd stopped into town to visit, she hadn't expected to find the situation as it was. Gilbert couldn't be her partner in crime anymore: he had a brother to raise, a pile of bills to pay, a handful of jobs to occupy his time, and if she hadn't seen him in action within these last few days, she would have never believed it. Who would have thought that Gilbert Beilschmidt – the screw off, the freak, the maniac liar – could have possibly become a responsible, hardworking young man able to support a ten-year-old (who, in Ludwig's defense, was quite capable for his age) and himself?

"You're a good brother, Gilbert," she whispered to him, smiling at his peaceful face before snapping off the light and letting the room fall into darkness. "I love you, you crazy bastard."


	8. Chapter 8: Where His Words Had No Effect

A/N: Another chapter up~

I've never actually experienced a haunting, so I just mostly made this up... but it's fiction, so I can do that.

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><p>Chapter 8: Where His Words Had No Effect<p>

For a long time, Gilbert and Elizabeta sat out in the car parked in front of her ranch-style family home. During this time, the albino pretended not to be wistfully gazing at the building situated next-door, pretended not to be wishing that he could return to those splendid glory days of being six-years-old and knowing everything.

Finally, his companion cleared her throat, successfully drowning out his sentimental daydreams.

"Uh, right." He rubbed his hands together restlessly, more for the comforting sensation of movement than for the need for warmth – especially not on this particularly humid day in June. "Where're your folks, anyway?"

"They're out visiting my dad's family back in Hungary." Shrugging, she added, "They'll be out of town until sometime in July."

"Jesus," Gilbert snorted, jamming his crossing his arms and wagging his eyebrows suggestively. "You're inviting me to your house while your folks are out? You're making me feel like a naughty high schooler."

The only response to this was a playful bat at his shoulder.

"Are you ready to go in there?" he asked the moment he'd recovered, sounding for just a moment like the adventurous child he'd been. "I mean, who knows what the hell's gonna happen if we do."

"Yeah, I'm ready." Though her hands were shaking with nerves, Elizabeta turned off the car's engine and opened her door all in one smooth motion. "The last one in's a rotten egg."

The man chuckled. "You really wanna play that game, Liz? What if I win, but I'm torn to shreds by the crazy ghost haunting your house?"

"Good riddance."

"Ah, you're so cruel," Gilbert sighed dramatically, striking a pose with his wrist pressed to his brow as he pulled a grotesquely distressed face. "Trying to kill me so early on in the operation… You've obviously never watched the movies – the best-looking guy always lives and gets the girl."

He raised a brow to her, half joking, half hoping to receive some sort of response. Instead, Elizabeta swatted him away, laughing.

"Do you think I don't know you're stalling?" she teased, though not making any moves towards the door herself.

"It was worth a try." He strode (almost) fearlessly to the door. "After you, m'lady."

"Always a gentleman." With a naughty glint in her olive green eyes, she grasped the door and yanked it open. "Hiding behind the skirts of a woman."

Gilbert playfully slugged her in the shoulder and followed her inside.

The familiar scent of paprika tickled at the young people's noses as they entered the mudroom, dancing on the air like a promise of something rich and sweet, tinged with the just perfect amount of heat. Inhaling deeply, the man took it in. This was Elizabeta's smell, the delicate spice that hung about her person and bewitched him. He slid his graying sneakers from sweat-socked feet and peered into the cozy kitchen through the family room, half expecting to find crayon drawings attached to the front of the refrigerator with brightly colored magnets. However, before he could comment that the house had barely changed since he'd seen it last, they crossed the threshold and were frozen instantly in their tracks.

The room was much colder than they'd expected, drawing their terse exhalations from purple lips in clouds of frost. With each step further inside, the pressure increased until their ears popped and the dim, morning light had become a full-fledged darkness. The presence was so strong that Gilbert could feel his hair standing on end all across his goose-pimpled flesh, each silently alerting him that they were far from alone.

"Is this because of him?" Elizabeta whispered. She rubbed anxiously at her biceps, hoping to warm the bare skin and wishing that all her sweatshirts weren't currently located just down the hall in her bedroom.

Sensing her apprehension, the albino nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's him."

He cast around a searching gaze, squinting past the accumulated gloom to maybe catch a glimpse of the ghost child wherever he was. The overall quiet of the neat home was broken only by the soft sniffles and sobs that echoed unnaturally, making them impossible to trace. A flicker of movement caught the man's sharp eye. In the far corner, tucked snugly beside the television, Gilbert found Matthew crouched petulantly with his thin arms encircling his knees.

Before he could call out to him, Elizabeta let out a breathy, "Where is he?"

Indigo eyes flashed open, locking onto the two living beings with such intensity that the boy's rage was tangible in the crackling air. Somewhere, perhaps in a different room, something shattered violently.

"I'm right here!" Matthew screeched hoarsely, tears audible as he called out, "I'm here, I'm here!"

"Oh my God…" A warm hand latched desperately onto Gilbert's, making him start. To his left, Elizabeta's face was deathly pale and her eyes were roughly the size of baseballs. Fingers tangling with his, she gasped, "I can hear him."

"Hey Matt, we know you're here!" the albino called, stomach sinking as it knotted itself into an iron pretzel. "C'mon, kid, let's just-"

With a noise like a gunshot, the glass of the television screen cracked in half.

"Matthew?"

"Why can't they see me?" he was sniveling, frustration and anger weaving in and out of his words. "I'm the same as Alfred, why can you see me?"

"What do we do?" The grip on his hand increased as the woman latched onto his forearm as well. "Gilbert, what the hell are we going to do?"

The sofa was pushed over backwards, falling with an impressive _thud!_

"We're gonna get the fuck outta here," he murmured from the corner of his mouth, as though any sort of movement would disrupt the delicate tongue was coated with cotton and dust, making it a miracle he'd managed to speak at all. Tugging her backwards towards the door, the albino held his breath. He had become painfully aware of his heart hammering against his ribcage like a wild beast struggling to free itself, the blood drumming deafeningly in his ears as he waited for something terrible to happen.

The moment their heels brushed the door, Gilbert seized the knob and the two of them tumbled out onto the doorstep. The now-wordless howl behind them cut off suddenly as the latch clicked once more into place, locking them out.

Slowly, Elizabeta sat up, legs spread awkwardly as she tried to comprehend what had just occurred. Tearing his lecherous stare from her (admittedly well-shaped) thighs, Gilbert shuddered as the chill within him was overpowered by the heat of the balmy June day.

"Hate to say it, Liz," he breathed, "But you're gonna need an exorcist to get rid of him now."


	9. Chapter 9: Who He Called

A/N: In which the exorcist is revealed~

This is another relatively short chapter, so I'm sorry. However, the next chapter seems like it will be a bit longer...

* * *

><p>Chapter 9: Who He Called<p>

The drive back to the brothers' duplex was silent and tainted with anxiety. When the brunette had finally pulled her hand free of Gilbert's, she hadn't been able to meet his eyes. He just assumed she was embarrassed to have been caught acting so completely terrified. Had she been the same girl he'd known as a child, she might have run up to Matthew and spit at him, or screamed curses and insults until she ran out (which would have taken quite a while). However, femininity and high school had changed her, making her seem, at times, like someone far removed from the tomboy who had once used his head to unjam her locker (he still winced each time he passed the damned thing in the middle school hallway). It was strange, but somehow this new behavior drew Gilbert in, making him want to protect her from any harm that threatened her horizons though that he knew full well that she was perfectly capable of defending herself.

"Where were you?" Ludwig asked. He was sitting on the couch watching television as they shuffled through the door, his eyes looking suspiciously red as he wiped at them with his arm. "I woke up and no one was here."  
>"Sorry, Lutz." Dropping down to a knee in front of the boy, Gilbert gathered his brother into his arms with a tired smile. "Liz and me had to run a few errands before you were up. Are you okay?"<p>

"Yeah," he sniffled, adjusting his trembling lips. "I'm big enough to be on my own now."

The albino chuckled, grinding his knuckles into the other's blond-locked head. "Aw, c'mon now, you're not getting rid of me that easy."

"Are you okay, 'Lizabeta?" Glancing past the older male, Ludwig peered up at her. "You look sick."

She let out a laugh that was more of a sigh and nodded. "I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Then I'll go make you a Toaster Strudel and hot chocolate!" he announced, twisting free of his sibling's grasp in favor of marching into the kitchen.

Elizabeta raised an amused brow. "Hot chocolate in June?"

Shrugging, her friend got to his feet. "Whenever he gets worked up, I make him some. Mom used to do it for me when I was a kid, too."

"Your mom, huh?"

Luise Beilschmidt had been a pretty woman overflowing with grace and kindness to impress even the most untouchable individuals. In Gilbert's mind, there had been no finer mother anywhere – there had never been a woman more beautiful, more giving, or more perfect than the one who had given him life. She had been the sort to often sweep up children into her arms and kiss their cheeks kindly, celebrating their small victories as though learning to tie one's shoes was on the level of winning a Nobel prize and taking the school bus alone was the equivalent of being shuttled to the moon.

With a painful jolt, the man remembered her patience with his ability. She had always listened to his stories about "imaginary friends" without scolding or patronizing, in fact, Luise seemed pleased that her son had been gifted with a wonderful imagination… or something quite different than the talents of those around him.

She had been so excited when she learned that she was pregnant again, explaining to a nine-year-old Gilbert that he would soon have a little sister or brother to help raise (the woman had been smart like that – rather than introducing the soon-to-be sibling as a playmate, she had appealed to her son's pride and promised him a part in raising the younger child without knowing how relevant her words would later become).

"It's ready," Ludwig called from the kitchen, his tone as assertive as possible for a ten-year-old. "But don't drink it right now – you'll burn your mouth."

When their mother had died giving birth to this strong, blond-haired boy, Gilbert had hated the infant with all of his heart and decided then that he would do everything in his power to punish him for stealing her away. Cruel pinches left bruises up Ludwig's pale, fat arms, and baby toys were broken at an alarming pace. Then one day, to their father's amazement, the mean, bitter behavior stopped and Gilbert began to warm (albeit, slowly) to his brother. Only Gilbert would ever know what had changed his mind, and he was loath to discuss it with any of those around him.

"Oh, Gilbert, you got a call from… Antonio." Ludwig reemerged, reading the small Post-it note clutched in his hand. "He invited you to a party, but I told him that you aren't twenty-one yet, so you can't go."

Elizabeta giggled, probably at the look of dejection that shaped the albino man's face as he sighed.

"Thanks, kid." Reaching out to ruffle the boy's soft locks, Gilbert paused mid-air with a flicker of realization glinting in his translucent eyes. "Hey, did he leave you a number?"

The man took up the phone and the Post-it note, grinning like the devil. "Liz, I've found your exorcist."

* * *

><p>"Antonio speaking."<p>

Gilbert smirked at the man's tired but professional tone, adjusting the Tracfone's position against his ear. "Yo Tony, I'm not breaking up the party, am I?"

"Gil! How are you?" Antonio's tone brightened with an unseen smile. "No, no, it's just Lovi and me over here. I was joking when I called it a party, but I didn't realize you had your daddy answering the phone for you."

"Aw, shut up. Lutz's a good kid."

"He sounds so cute~"

"Stay away from him, cradle robber."

The man on the other end of the phone connection laughed brightly.

"No, but really… I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

The albino wet his lips, pretending not to see Elizabeta's pointed, questioning looks. "You're still dating that pissy Italian guy, right? You said he was over there now?"

"Lovi?" Antonio probably nodded here before his voice issued sheepishly through the receiver. "Yeah, he's here. We're still together, isn't that right?~"

A scuffle punctuated with swearwords and less-than intimate bodily contact met Gilbert's waiting ears and made him snicker.

"Who is it?" was the muffled question being hissed. The nurse responded and set his partner cursing again.

"What do you want, asshole?" Had the speaker been addressing Gilbert face-to-face, the albino was certain that he would have been petrified by the wicked glare he was certain was being given on the far end of the phone connection.

"Hey, Lovino, how's it going?"

"Fuck you, what the hell do you want?"

Goodwill dissolving away quickly, the man grumbled to himself before asking (rather testily), "You studied at the seminary, right?"

Across the room, Elizabeta paused to cast him a questioning look. He only smirked knowingly at her before turning away once more.

"Yeah, so?" There was a note of disbelief in the other's voice that was quickly disguised as snarky irritation. "You wanna come to confession? I couldn't save your damn soul even if I wanted to, you jackass."

"Could you guys come over so we can talk about it in person?" Kicking himself for the malevolent being he was inviting into his home, the albino managed to continue, "I… really need your help, and you're the only one I can ask."

"Go fuck yourself."

Before Gilbert could fire a snappish reply, the phone was forcefully removed from Lovino's grasp amidst furious yelling and the sound of a struggle. Then, Antonio's (bizarrely) cheerful voice issued through the receiver.

"He says he'd love to help, Gil."

* * *

><p>AN: The Beilschmidt brothers' mom is based on Queen Luise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz.


	10. Chapter 10: What They Discussed

A/N: So this is a relatively long chapter (as in, it's longer than some of the others) and the next chapter is shaping up to be very much the same. Some interesting revelations concerning our exorcist and Elizabeta's role in the brothers' life.

* * *

><p>Chapter 10: What They Discussed<p>

Lovino Vargas was every bit as ornery as Gilbert remembered, his young, sun-tanned face twisted into a thunderous scowl. Hazel eyes glittering with obvious distaste as they studied his surroundings, he spat, "I see you're still living like a bum."

"And you're still living off your boyfriend," the albino countered shortly, jerking his head in the direction of the aforementioned lover. "If I didn't need your help, I would beat the living shit out of you right now."

"Like you could." The shorter man crossed his arms and glared, inwardly cursing Antonio for making him come. "Anyway, what the hell did you want?"

Silently, Gilbert clenched and flexed his empty hands, waiting for the proper words to come to him and considering the various outcomes of the different dialogue options (reasoning with this temperamental Italian was like disarming an extraterrestrial nuclear bomb – one was never quite certain how to approach the task, and rarely was anyone successful). He was rescued when Elizabeta swept into the room, charm and natural beauty cranked all the way up.

"I need an exorcist," she explained, resting her hands over her heart. She was wearing the falsely tearful expression she'd used to talk her way out of trouble so many times in their past that it took every milligram of self control to keep the albino from smirking at her. "Gilbert said you could help me, can't you?"

Lovino's eyes widened, then narrowed in approval. "Of course I can help you; a beautiful woman such as yourself shouldn't have to deal with ghosts and demons."

The two other men blinked slowly, not fully comprehending the incredible transformation taking place before them. Oblivious, the (gay?) brunette stepped forwards to take up the young woman's hand in his own.

"Please, let me help you miss." Tilting his head slightly to gaze up at her from a new angle, he murmured, "I endured my training so as to be able to help such people as yourself."

"So you can do it?" Gilbert interrupted, vaguely irritated (make that "pretty damn pissed") that Lovino – who had a boyfriend for Christ's sake – was having an easier time smooth-talking Elizabeta than he ever would. An old jealousy bubbled in his stomach, reminding him of high school days when she'd gone steady with that uppity, arrogant bastard, Roderich.

With a wicked glower, the supposed exorcist's face slowly burned red. "W-well, of course I can!"

"Great. Liz, grab your keys and we'll drive on over-"

"Okay, okay!" His expression a painful mixture of humiliation and fury, Lovino snapped, "I'm not actually one-hundred percent positive, asshole."

"Lovi…" Antonio patted him kindly on the back, letting his hand slide carelessly downwards before it was slapped away by the scarlet-faced younger male. "Don't worry about it! You can just ask your grandpa, right?"

"Y-yeah…" He sniffled and rubbed at a leaking nose. "The old man oughta know what to do."

Elizabeta's shoulders slumped. "So you _can't_ help me."

"No, no! I can! Really," Lovino insisted. "Just give me some time… a week! Give me a week and I can do the exorcism!"

She chewed her lip. "A week? Well, I guess I don't really have a choice…"

"I promise you," Lovino said as he took up her hand in his. "I'll be back to help in a week."

"Will the exorcism work even if you're not a virgin priest?"

The snide remark brought a swift kick to the albino's shin.

Antonio smiled. "Oh Lovi, don't deny the truth."

"Okay, that's enough of that. Get out." Gilbert stepped forward to usher the two men out the door lest his brother caught a wisp of the conversation and began asking awkward questions he wasn't quite ready to answer. Smirking, he waved them off. "I'll see you idiots when you've got a plan."

Then, turning back to face Elizabeta, he cast an apologetic look. "Sorry about all this. But, y'know, you're welcome to stay with Lutz and I until we get everything sorted out back at your place."

"Thanks." She smiled at him, suddenly looking tired. "I really appreciate it."

Gilbert prodded her with a finger, a flicker of familiar wickedness reappearing in this eyes. "Is that all? I would expect a bigger reaction from a lucky woman like who getting to spend a week in my awesome presence."

"Keep it up and this lucky woman will check into a hotel," his old friend responded without missing a beat. Then, glancing at her watch, she sighed, "I guess the stores'll probably be open by now, so I should get moving."

"Why? Did you need something?"

She smirked. "Unless you want me to keep wearing these same clothes for a week, yeah, I've got to run out and do some shopping."

Reaching over suddenly, Gilbert snatched up her wrist and consulted her timepiece. "Aw, that late already? What a pain in the ass."

"What?" she asked, reclaiming her arm. "Do you have to work today?'

"Yeah, I gotta be to the pawnshop in an hour, then I work an evening shift at the theater again." He disappeared into the closet he shared with Ludwig, digging through for a cleanwork shirt. "Could you maybe take Lutz out with you today?"

At the sound of his name, Ludwig appeared from the kitchen where he had been waiting until Lovino and Antonio left. With a solemn expression, he approached the young woman and stood before her. "Even if you take me with you, you don't have to buy me anything. I'll behave myself, and I won't act out in the shops, either. I promise to be on my best behavior."

"Of course you can come with me," she laughed, ruffling his hair fondly. "You're adorable, Ludwig, you know that?"

The boy's cheeks burned at the sudden compliment, and he thanked her quietly.

"How did you do it, Gilbert?"

"Barely." Yanking a short-sleeved polo shirt over his head, and attempting to brush his hair into some sort of order, the albino winked to his younger counterpart. "Take care of her, Lutz. You're the man of the house until I get home, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

><p>That night, Gilbert returned home (positively reeking of theater popcorn) to find the two other tenants nestled together on the sofa watching some late night television. He whipped off the theater-issue baseball cap, running a hand through his sweaty locks.<p>

"Isn't it a little late for you to be up, Lutz?"

"Oh, it's fine." Elizabeta waved off his concern before Ludwig could open his mouth to protest. "We were waiting for you."

Within seconds, he was seated beside Ludwig, sandwiching the boy between himself and their new living companion. Though the sagging couch groaned dangerously beneath the combined weight, the three of them found the arrangement to be surprisingly cozy, almost as if it were meant to be.

A commercial jangled on, flashing its product across the screen as an obnoxious voice offered a deal at $19.95. Gilbert shifted and rested a hand on the boy's blond head.

"What do you wanna do tomorrow?" he asked quietly, gazing at his brother in a manner he hoped was less weary than he felt. "I don't have to work, so we can do something fun for once."

"Could we go see a movie?" Eyes glinting with barely concealed excitement, Ludwig smiled. "You can get a discount if we go there, too, right?"

The albino frowned sharply. "I told you, Lutz, I don't want you to worry about that shit. If you wanna do something, you tell me and let _me_ figure it out for you."

"But I really do want to see a movie," the younger boy insisted. "Everyone in my class's already gone to see _Guardian_ except for me!"

"I heard that one's pretty violent…"

"I'm _ten_ years old!"

"Oh, just let him see it," Elizabeta broke in, grinning at the man in a way that seemed to imply that she was amused to see him acting so overly protective. "It's only PG-13."

Being the skillful individual he was, Gilbert flipped her the middle finger with just his eyes and retorted, "Yeah, well, I'm his P, this is my G, and he's not 13. The answer's 'no'."

His brother sensed (as all children can, the nasty little puppeteers that they are) that he could manipulate his brother by relying upon the support of the second adult figure. So, turning to Elizabeta, he pouted. "Please, Eliza? Can't you make him change his mind?"

"Y-you're making _me_ the bad guy?" the man sputtered furiously. "Hey, listen up, Lutz, this is for your own good!"

"This from the guy who watched _Saving Private Ryan _when he was seven." She chuckled, "C'mon Gilbert, if we take him together, we can cover his eyes at the scary parts."

"T… together?" Pausing, the man swallowed thickly. If they went together, it could potentially look like a date… or like they were a family of sorts. Either way, it would mean that he would be advantageously coupled with Elizabeta. He hummed in deep consideration.

"Please Gilbert?"

"I'll buy the popcorn."

He sighed. "Fine, _fine!_ We're going."

The way the other two high-fived and smiled conspiratorially to each other made Gilbert wonder vaguely if they had formulated some sort of plan, and if he had just unwittingly set it into motion.


	11. Chapter 11: Why He Could Stand to Wait

Warning: Shameless referencing ahead. Aside from that, we meet Lovino's grandfather and Gilbert comes to terms with his feelings for Liz (because this isn't a shojo manga and it won't be dragged out for five hundred chapters before they finally confess).

Also, anything said by Rome has nothing to do with my perception of Catholics - I _am _Catholic. His character is only meant to represent himself... and we know how Rome is.

* * *

><p>Chapter 11: Why He Could Stand to Wait<p>

_"You heard him. He's never going back."_

_ "Bruder!"_

Gilbert held his left arm awkwardly over his body, contorting so as to cover the younger boy's eyes as a (remarkably good-looking) man stumbled forward with a bullet wound in his abdomen. With his free hand, he snatched up a handful of ridiculously buttery popcorn and transferred it to his waiting mouth.

_"Hey West, you guys alright?"_

_ "We're fine…"_

"Is it over yet?" Ludwig whispered impatiently from behind his brother's protective reach, his legs kicking slightly at the back of the seats in front of them. Someone hissed in irritation, but went largely ignored as the blonde continued, "I want to see what's happening!"

"I dunno, there's a lot of blood…"

"I'm old enough to see it, Gilbert!" he was insisting, volume increasing and causing the other moviegoers to shush them incessantly.

"Fine, but if you get nightmares…"

"I won't get nightmares!"

Defeated, the albino relinquished his censorship just as the bleeding man was slapped across the face by one of those sexy, kickass types who shouted at him to get to his feet and stop trying to die a hero. Gilbert winced inwardly, his own cheek twinging at the memory of his failed attempt to ask his own sexy, kickass childhood friend to prom. She had still been dating that stupid pianist then, all caught up in a superficial, girly world of short skirts and polished fingernails. Though most of the male population would be drawn to this sort of display, Gilbert had despised it, had wanted nothing more than to see Elizabeta trade in her sundresses for her old denim overalls and her meticulously styled (though, admittedly beautiful) chestnut locks for the scrubby ponytail she'd worn in the glorious summers of their youth. He knew that she was just putting on a show – he'd heard her sighs, had seen her shoulders slumped beneath the feminine image being forced upon her. The day she had broken off with Roderich, Gilbert had run all the way home, howling like a berserker emerging victoriously from a battle. When she'd come to school the next day, she had been wearing torn jeans and his heart had almost exploded from his chest.

Now, he squinted through the projector-lit darkness of the theater to catch the young woman slurping absently at her soft drink. Her hair had been pulled back into a lopsided bun for the day, and she wore a hooded sweatshirt that seemed just a size too big seeing as only her fingertips poked out from the cuffs. This was the way he believed Elizabeta was meant to be – relaxed and casually stunning in a way that sent him reeling. No other woman could pull off the sloppy, second-hand look like she could.

He suddenly realized that she was returning his stare, a wicked little grin curling at her full lips. Winking, she turned back to the movie, chewing mindlessly at the straw in her drink. In that moment, Gilbert recognized that he (still) had feelings for the young woman who had blossomed from the rough-and-tumble tomboy he'd first loved.

* * *

><p>"So, did you like it, Ludwig?" Elizabeta asked, licking a bit of mustard from the corner of her lip. They had stopped at a nearby burger joint on their way out of the theater and were currently devouring the less-than-healthy beef patties and fries. "It wasn't too violent for you, was it?" She sent a meaningful glance in Gilbert's direction.<p>

He stuck out his tongue in response.

"The main guard guy was really cool and strong." With a happy smile, Ludwig added, "I want to be like him when I grow up!"

"Then I'm gonna call you 'West' from now on," his brother laughed, nudging the boy's shoulder with his fist. "That's what hisbrother called him, anyway."

"Okay!"

From the other side of the table, an amused Elizabeta snorted into her milkshake. "Just don't end up with a bullet in your gut, okay Gilbert?"

"Oh, shut up before I start calling you 'Hungary'."

"Hi Ludwig!" An ecstatic cry burst out from across the establishment, and a short, auburn-haired something practically launched itself into the booth beside the blonde. "It didn't know I would see you here today!"

"Feliciano!" Ludwig tugged at the other's arms, patiently extracting himself from his grip as though this was nothing new. "You can't just run around in restaurants like that! What if you had run into someone and they fell down and got hurt? Then you would get sued and you would have to go to court!"

"You've got quite the mother hen there, hn?" A tall, dark-haired man appeared beside Elizabeta, smiling at the boys through a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. Rubbing a thoughtful hand across his whiskered chin, he chuckled. "They make for a cute picture, though."

"Um… who are you?" Without getting to his feet, Gilbert pointed to the grinning stranger. "I mean, not to sound rude or anything, but how do you know my little brother?"

"He and my little Feli go to the same school, the same grade, too."

Nodding, the albino studied the second child, observing wide, amber-colored eyes and round cheeks. "And he's… it's a boy, right?"

The man's smile didn't so much as falter. "Yup. He's a real cutie, isn't he?"

Not quite knowing how to respond, he was relieved when Elizabeta answered for him.

"He's adorable!" she gushed, eyes sparkling. "How old is he?"

"Ten."

"Just like Ludwig!"

Ludwig blushed, glancing up at the others from the corners of his eyes as Feliciano clung to his hands and chattered happily, oblivious to the other ongoing conversation. It struck Gilbert then that this boy looked strangely familiar.

"Hey, old man," he addressed the (as of then) nameless individual with a jerk of his head. "Do you know a Lovino Vargas?"

"Lovi?" the man seemed amused. "He's my oldest grandson. … How do you know him?"

"You're his old man?" Getting promptly to his feet, he demanded, "What can you tell me about exorcisms?"

The priest blinked slowly, pursing his lips. Finally, he sighed. "Are you the reason he's asked me about that?"

"Yeah." Swallowing, Gilbert noted that the acknowledgement felt awkward coming off his tongue. Elizabeta fidgeted restlessly, though transfixed by this development.

"That means that you can see them, right?" There was no malice in the other's voice as he confirmed his suspicions. "You have the gift, I hear."

Ludwig leaned across the table, ignoring Feliciano suddenly in favor of asking, "You believe Gilbert, too?"

"Of course I do," the priest sighed. "Even if I can't see the deceased, I've performed exorcisms before – I can sense when they're around."

Somehow, Gilbert felt himself exhale deeply. This man knew about the world in which he was trapped: a world of lingering spirits and skeptic criticism.

"I don't suppose you have a working knowledge of Latin?" he continued, casting the albino youth a wry smile that held no note of arrogance or distaste. "Are you familiar with religious ceremony?"

"Uh…"

"If you will wait it out, I promise to you that I will have our little Lovi trained and prepared to help you." The man smiled warmly in a manner than made Gilbert want desperately to believe him. Finally, he nodded. A week of waiting for an exorcism meant a week of Elizabeta's presence in his life, and if that were the case, he could wait forever.

"Hey Liz, that's okay with you, right?"

She bobbed her chestnut-locked head in compliance, a grateful expression on her face. "I don't mind waiting at all, Mister…?"

"Father Roma."

"Right, _Father _Roma," the young woman laughed softly at her mistake. "Tell Lovino that I really appreciate what he's doing for me – it means a lot."

"And I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it." Setting his balled fists on his hips and striking a dramatic (albeit, impressive) pose, the priest winked before saying, "The boy's a lady killer, just like his gramps."

Gilbert stared at him. "I thought that priests were supposed to be, y'know…"

"Oh, most of the time they are… but me?" Father Vargas held a finger before his lips and smirked. "I got my grandsons from somewhere, hey?"


	12. Chapter 12: How He Earned Thanks

A/N: In case you noticed that a twelveth chapter was uploaded twice... I did away with the last chapter because I wasn't satisfied with it and none of it seemed relevant to the actual storyline. Instead, I present you with this chapter and promise another very soon. When you read this, you'll probably understand why I did away with the other chapter, anyway.

Who's the ghost in his living room?~

* * *

><p>Chapter 12: How He Earned Thanks<p>

Thursday had sprung upon him sooner than he could prepare himself, and the end of this week was hurtling at him, full speed. When the exorcism on Saturday was over, Elizabeta would move back to her house for the remainder of the summer and there would be no more playful banter over joint breakfasts, no more cozy nights of television watching on the couch, no more returning to the sound of her laughter mingling gently with Ludwig as they reveled in some shared joke. The thing he would miss most, he realized, would be waking up early to see her dozing on the couch.

This morning he mustered the courage to let his fingertips brush gently across her forehead, dragging the reluctant chestnut curls aside as they went. He wished he could do just that everyday for the rest of his life, that he could be given the right to touch her so reverently and press his lips to her brow in a quiet show of affection. Drawing back with a sigh, he stumbled into the coffee table on his way to wake his brother, unaware of the gaze that had locked onto his retreating back.

"You goof."

Gilbert whirled nervously, ears already tingling with the hot pinpricks of red-hued shame. "Aw, Liz, you're up?"

The duplex's former occupant sat perched on the arm of the sofa (long flattened by this particular form of abuse), placing herself between the man and his guest. Now that he could see her up close, he found that she was quite pretty in spite of the telltale bruises about her neck. She seemed relatively peaceful, too – a far cry from her usual teary self (pun intended) –and the smile she was giving him sparkled even in her clear, deep blue eyes.

"If you love her, just tell her," the ghost advised him without the slightest hint of impatience or malice. Tucking her short, ash blond hair behind her ear where it curled along her jaw, she observed him earnestly. "Men are so simple to read, but they are so pathetic when trying to speak their minds."

"Whatdya mean 'pathetic'? I could tell her any time I want," the albino insisted, thrusting his chest forward. "I just… don't want to yet."

"It's not as if her feelings for you are a mystery." Waving her hand at the still-sleeping girl, the spirit grinned.

"They aren't?"

She giggled. "See? You men can be so stupid to not see the honest truth even when it is laid out bare in front of you."

"And what about your man?" he asked testily, slightly irritated at her constant (though apparently well-meaning) jabs. Pointing to her neck, he mumbled, "How'd things turn out for you?"

"It was my brother." Adopting a closed expression, she traced the shadowed embrace of her killer's grasp. "He was a soldier. It was the post traumatic shock syndrome that drove him over the edge. And the drinking."

Gilbert looked away. "I'm sorry."

"He was a good boy, though," she added determinedly, as though still trying to convince herself. "He just made a mistake."

"Right."

"It's true. Besides, we have to believe in the ones we love even when nobody else will."

"Yeah, I guess." He coughed, feeling the weight of her pointed look.

"That's what she told your brother when he asked about your gift." Getting to her feet, she reached out and clasped his hand in hers. "She believes in you, Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Gilbert?"

The albino whirled to see his brother at the entrance of the kitchen, a look of utter confusion on his face.

"Who are you talking to?"

Looking back, he discovered that the space before him to be completely empty and his hand to be dangling out in open air. He withdrew it at once and returned it to his pocket. "No one, West. Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

* * *

><p>Collapsing onto the sofa, the albino let out a low curse. He wouldn't have been bothered if he was left alone to simply lie there forever. It had been a long night at the movie theater the previous evening, what with the midnight release of some great new movie (or so Gilbert had heard – it wasn't as though he'd gotten to see it for himself), then followed an equally long day at the middle school and the pawnshop. In fact, he had only pawned one item all day, and it was some boring-ass collectible plate set complete with lame pictures of windmills and kids in wooden clogs. The tall, blond man pawning them, however, seemed to be of a different opinion and had given the clerk a rather agitated look when he'd snickered at the unexpected items. Apparently the damn things cost almost as much as his rent. Go figure.<p>

Shifting his position as little as he could to avoid the spring that dug painfully into his back, Gilbert sighed in relief. Thank God it was Friday and he wouldn't have to work again until another damned Monday reared its ugly head. A moment later, his eyes flew open and he sat upright.

"West? You home?"

"He's at a friend's house." Elizabeta made her way out to the sitting room and handed him a cup of coffee.

"West's got friends?"

She slugged him. "Not all of us are as lonely and pathetic as you, Gilbert. Ludwig's with Feli today…you know, Lovino's brother?"

"When do we have to pick him up?" Though he wouldn't admit it to anybody – noteven his brother – Gilbertdidn't like it when Ludwig was away. It reminded him of the fine line he was toeing as far as the child social services were concerned. That, and his little brother was the last thing he'd been left by his mother – he would have rather died than seen something bad happen to the boy. "I don't have a theater shift tonight, so I can run out to get him."

"He's spending the night."

The albino frowned. "Did you get all his stuff? His toothbrush?"

"Yes _Mom_." Reaching across the couch, Elizabeta tweaked his nose and laughed. "Now I see where Ludwig gets it from!"

"Hey! Take that back!" An old spark of energy and excitement flaring in his chest, Gilbert whirled to face her with a sneer. "You're just jealous 'cuz I'm a _way _awesomer parent than you are – you probably fell for West's kicked puppy look!"

"Awesomer's not a word, idiot."

"It is now."

She shook her head. "Sometimes I swear you haven't aged a day since we graduated."

"Better than you, Liz." Snickering, he held up his hands in defense. "And what are they calling that thing you college people get? The freshman fifteen?"

"I- Hey!"

He fended off her playful attacks, feeling a fullness building in his chest until it poured out of his mouth in breathless little chuckles. "Ah, I take it back! I take it back! … You've always had a big ass!"

"And here I was going to invite you to dinner tonight." The woman pouted teasingly, leaning back forcefully onto the other. "I guess I'm just going to have to go alone with my 'big ass' and eat your share, too."

"Wait, what? Really?" After a moment of feeling as though he were freefalling without the barest means of catching himself, Gilbert managed to regain the majority his wits. "I mean… Why?"

"Well, you've been letting me stay here for almost a week," she admitted, twirling her brunette locks about her finger. "And… and I thought I'd do something nice, okay? Jesus, you make this so hard!"

Surprised at the lack of humor in her expression when she glared exasperatedly in his direction, he realized that she was completely serious. In his chest, his heart was beating double time, hammering against his breastbone and throbbing in his ears. Everything around him seemed to slow as he nodded and formed with his lips the words, "I'd like that."


	13. Chapter 13: What He Wanted

A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! Normally I would respond to all of you, but my time's been completely occupied by school work lately and I haven't gotten the chance to do so. I just want all you reviews to know that I read all of what you write and I really, really appreciate it.

Sorry about the delay in updates lately. Normally I set a weekly release, but things have been nuts and I've just written whatever I had time for whenever I've had the time for it. I hope you enjoy this!

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><p>Chapter 13: What He Wanted<p>

They walked beside each other, close enough that their shoulders brushed, but their hands remained tucked safely into pockets where they could avoid accidental contact. Dinner had been pleasant enough, though full of anxious halts and pricy food items costing more than Gilbert would have liked to pay (or, in this case, have someone else pay for him). Elizabeta had only waved off his extremely vocal protests at her footing the bill, insisting that he could consider it compensation for letting her live off of him for the past week. He had, in response, mumbled that she didn't owe him anything for that. However, he _hadn't_ divulged that he considered her presence to be payment enough; this was real life, after all, and not some stupid romance story. If it were, he might have been one of those long-haired, young Adonis types who had already had seven steamy encounters with his gorgeous heroine… or something like that.

"It's a nice night," Elizabeta said suddenly, making him jump. Somehow they had made their way to a small grass-and-bench park on a quieter side of the city, bordered by sparse trees and dirty pavement. Overhead, the streetlight buzzed restlessly, lending its energy to the young man below.

"Yeah, thanks again for dinner, Liz." He shrugged, embarrassed for having had to employ the words of appreciation. "I mean, I would've been cool with, like, Taco Bell or something…"

"Just shut up and let me feel like I've done something good for you for once."

"For_ once,_" he repeated, putting exaggerated emphasis on the single syllabled word. "To make up for the _thousands_ of times you abused me when we were kids."

"You were a little asshole back then."

"You mean I'm not anymore?"

Catching his naughty smirk, the brunette let out a snort. "You're right – you're still an ass."

"I don't mind so long as I'm your favorite ass." He laced the teasing comment with quiet longing as he jabbed her with an elbow.

"Are you kidding me? Your ass is the flattest ass I've ever seen." Elizabeta feigned disappointment. "I mean, even Roderich's was way better."

"That's only 'cuz he sat on _his_ all day playing his stupid music. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been working _mine_ off ever since I graduated!"

"You mean you had one before?"

A few (less than) good-natured punches were thrown, handfuls of tangled hair were pulled, and the young people started laughing until they couldn't breathe.

It was in that happy, contented moment when one has finally filled his lungs with oxygen after an enthusiastic (or completely obnoxious) fit of mirth that Gilbert cast his joy-teared eyes upon his childhood friend to find her lit by the unflattering yellow-orange glow of the park lamps, looking somehow more beautiful than any given female he had ever before seen. Swept up in the afterglow of their shared banter, he took the opportunity to swoop down and seize her lips for himself. When his rational mind caught up and began to nag him, he reasoned that, either way, she would be leaving after tomorrow. If he didn't take a chance now, he would probably never be presented with the prospect again.

To his surprise, when he made his first contact, she tilted her head to allow room for his nose as he puckered gently against her soft mouth. Her arms caught his neck, and held him at her eye level as he drew back, face burning with the same blood that was thundering in his ears.

"What was that?" she asked, a strange tone in her voice that was neither shock nor anger.

Licking his lips nervously, Gilbert found that he wasn't sure where to rest his gaze. Finally, he simply met hers and grunted.

"Um, y'see… It's like this…" His proud, nonchalant façade was slipping away to leave his awkward, romantically-stunted self shivering in its place. "I… I love you, Liz."

_Damn. That could've been, like, five billion times smoother. _As Gilbert beat himself senseless with a mental nail-bat, Elizabeta grinned slowly.

"Well, that took you long enough, you idiot." She laughed. "How long've you been puzzling that one out? Kindergarten?"

He flushed a dark, hot crimson but couldn't gather the words to reply

Tugging him closer until their noses brushed, the young woman studied him with twin emeralds that glinted with tiny golden flecks worth more to him than the genuine article. "I love you, too."

_Thank God! _Gilbert wanted to sigh in relief. Smirking, he positively beamed down at her. "Well then, aren't you just the luckiest girl on the planet?"

"Don't push it."

They stood nose-to-nose for a long while after that, breathing in the other's exhales and basking in the warm, fuzzy sensation simmering in their bellies. It was like being drunk, the albino thought, brain overloaded with the satisfaction of being so close.

Batting her eyes playfully at him, Elizabeta stood on her tiptoes and kissed him once more.

Hopefully this infatuated intoxication wouldn't be followed by nausea and a pounding headache.

* * *

><p>It seemed as though Gilbert had been just as tired as he'd previously stated, for the moment the newly established couple walked through the door, he'd fallen onto the sofa and had begun snoring. Smoothing his bangs back to observe his peaceful sleeping expression, Elizabeta pressed her lips to his brow. This man had been such a fixture in her young life that she hadn't ever taken the time to realize the impact he had on her. The truth (though she would take this to her deathbed) was that she had returned to the city from college that summer to search him out. Now she found herself wondering if practically running him down in her car might have been the greatest thing to have ever happened to her – it was almost as though some greater power had dragged the stubborn, overly prideful man across the dented hood to remind them of just how much they meant to each other.<p>

Their love had been that of innocent children before, for they had both considered the other to be almost a sibling: anything greater than mutual (friendly) agreement to not tear the other to shreds would have been incestuous. However, life had yanked them from comfortable, familiar roles and hurled them into a drama-based high school existence that might have very well been the death of their bond had Gilbert not fallen in love with her.

Thinking back, Elizabeta was fairly certain that she had always been aware of her childhood companion's affections in high school. He had always stared at her from the corners of his eyes, but frontal views seemed to be forbidden as whenever she had approached him, he would pointedly ignore her or look anywhere but her face. Fast-forward to senior year when she had just left Roderich and Gilbert had asked her to prom, a small bouquet thrust out in front of him like a protective measure. She had rejected him then, still wondering exactly what he was to her. Gilbert was a brother, a confidant, and an insufferable asshole with an ego that could be seen from outer space. For a long time, Elizabeta could barely stand the boy: he had become obnoxious and deceitful with his self-expression and she was ashamed to have any connections to him. But he had changed when everything he had known crumbled away and left him an orphan raising his brother. This man held every trait she had ever loved about Gilbert tucked inside of him, but he was different. He was wiser now, world-weary and considerate.

Snuggling into his sleeping form, she breathed in his scent. It wasn't quite pleasant (he still smelt faintly of theater popcorn and perspiration), but it wasn't undesirable, either. She fell asleep curled against Gilbert's back, arms looped around his abdomen, wondering when exactly it had been that she had fallen in love with him.


	14. Chapter 14: How They Began

A/N: Short chapter, but with the promise of a quickly following next. The next chapter will probably be up by tomorrow. ^^

Meanwhile, thank you all for your words of encouragement!

PS: I actually looked into Catholic exorcism for this...

* * *

><p>Chapter 14: How They Began<p>

The morning found Gilbert waking slowly on the couch, mouth dry and fuzzy with sleep and chest burdened with an unfamiliar weight. Blinking against the strained light of the room, he found Elizabeta nestled against him, her cheek resting over his suddenly racing heart. For a moment, he wondered how she hadn't woken for the deafening throb of blood as it hammered in his ears. Then it fell silent, frozen in place. Today was Saturday – exorcism day – and the realization sent goose bumps shooting along his pale arms. He had never seen an exorcism before, and the word itself made his stomach twist uneasily; the image of Matthew writhing on the floor, crying and screaming for mercy jolted through his conscious mind and stuck there replaying itself like the proverbial broken record. Suddenly, Gilbert felt sick.

The next series of events was sparked when the phone rang from the kitchen, calling for its owner to haul his lazy, albino ass off the couch and answer it. He didn't move, and Elizabeta awoke with a wide yawn.

"Your phone's ringing."

"Yeah, I noticed." Closing his tired, burning eyes once more, he found himself wishing that the damn thing would just spontaneously combust.

"You gonna answer it, or are you gonna sit here looking brain dead all day?"

He pecked her lightly on the forehead with a lopsided grin. "Nah, I'll leave that to the pro."

She slugged him.

"Hey Gil, it's Tony…" The phone had stopped ringing, and the (unbelievably outdated) answering machine had begun taking the call, making Antonio's voice sound unnaturally scratchy. "Uh, Lovi and me were calling about that thing today?"

"Talk to me, Tony." Having dived across the room and overturned the coffee table to get to the receiver, he answered with the satisfied exhale of one who has just accomplished some great feat. "What've you got?"

The man on the other end hesitated, as though confused by the sudden presence of his friend. Then he said, "Lovi says today before lunch."

"Sounds good… eleven work for you?"

"Sure." With an audible smile, Antonio continued, "By the way, Fr. Roma says that Ludwig can stay at his place for today, so you should put your time alone with that fine lady friend to good use."

"Yeah, yeah… thanks Tony." The albino grumbled inwardly – how pathetic did a person have to be to get set up by a holy man? "Thanks a lot."

"So it's at eleven, huh?" His fine lady friend had gotten to her feet, pulling her hair over her shoulder to fall in gentle waves across her back.

Gilbert nodded. "We've got two hours to kill. You want breakfast?"

"I'm gonna take a shower first." She laughed, ruffling his hair fondly as she passed him on her way to the bathroom. "Not all of us like going around smelling like we've never heard of bathing."

"If I smell so bad, why don't you help me?" Looping an arm around Elizabeta's waist, the man pulled her against him so that he could bury his burning face in her neck. "Then we could share the hot water and no one would get a cold shower."

An elbow to the gut made him recoil sharply. Bright green eyes winked impishly at him and the brunette giggled.

"I don't think so. It sounds to me like a cold shower's exactly what you need."

And the door swung shut, leaving a panting, humiliated albino standing alone in his family room.

* * *

><p>Against his will (and better judgment), Gilbert found himself thinking that Lovino looked surprisingly impressive as he stood before the Hédévary residence in his well-pressed black shirt and white collar. With a Bible tucked under his arm, he carried a crucifix and flask holy water in his free hand, toying with a small rosary ring that was looped around his thumb.<p>

"About time you showed up, jackass," he addressed Gilbert, lip curling in a less-than godly fashion. "Here I went and studied for a week for you, and you're not even fucking on time!"

"Sorry we're late," Elizabeta cut in smoothly. "Traffic was crazy."

"Right." The would-be priest sighed and looked away. Apparently he'd heard about the two of them and their relationship status from his grandfather. "Anyways, we should probably get a move on."

Glancing around, the albino frowned slightly. "Where's Tony?"

"Sleeping, the lazy bastard." Turning to his ghost busting companions, he glowered for a moment at the empty space between them before letting loose a terse exhalation.

"What now?"

"When I go in there, I'm going to have to take the spirit inside of me." Lovino's angry hazel gaze flickered, giving way to nerves and a fear that was slowly draining the blood from his face. "But whatever the fuck you do, don't touch me. It's against the law to restrain someone who's possessed, so make sure to keep that in mind, you dumbass. Last thing I need is to get killed saving your girlfriend's fucking house."

Then, regaining that strange, uncharacteristic sense of majesty, the exorcist strode forward and opened the door of the house, crossing himself impressively as he did. Caught off guard by the sudden actions, the two other young people followed quickly after him.

The usual scent of paprika had faded, becoming replaced with the crackling scent of bitter, winter ice hinted with something sweet and very much like maple syrup. At the head of the small party, Lovino almost hesitated, his breath fogging in quick little spurts that revealed his uneasiness. When he had reached the center of the living room, he stopped, eyes closed, and began to pray.

Gilbert blinked slowly, sleepily, as though being dragged into a molasses-like mire of drowsiness. The room was so cold, but somehow that cold was hitting his flesh and being pulled into his core until his lungs ached with frost. It was the feeling one experienced when running a marathon amidst snow heaps and flurries, but not standing in the middle of a poorly air-conditioned house in June.

"Are you okay?" With an expression of confusion rather than concern (of course it wasn't exactly a surprise considering the speaker – when was the last time the crazy bitch had ever worried about him?), Elizabeta's voice struck his ears as though he were submerged in water, the sound rippling unnaturally.

Nodding, the albino waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Then all he knew was a black, vacuum-like silence.


	15. Chapter 15: Who Cared Most

A/N: Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: Who Cared Most<p>

The look in Gilbert's eyes had been indescribable, the pale, translucent iris contrasting sharply with his dark, dark pupil in such a remarkable manner that it had caught her unawares. In those albino eyes had been a flicker of something greater, something more profound than anything the physical realm could even begin to offer. Then they had rolled back into the young man's head, leaving him to fall like a marionette whose strings had all snapped.

A bile-flavored scream rose to Elizabeta's mouth as her lips parted in silence, the soundless cry trapping her breath in her chest. So stunned, she barely noticed when the temperature in the room rose suddenly and the sunny light through the windows finally seemed to reach them. Instead, she began to reach towards her friend, intending to help him without knowing how. Lovino caught her arm with surprising strength and held her steady.

When he finally spoke, all he could whisper was, "Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…"

* * *

><p>"Matthew! Matthew!" An excited blonde boy came flying down the staircase, arms spread like airplane wings. "See what Papa gave me? Isn't it aces?"<p>

Matthew nodded almost shyly, hugging his favorite plaything to his chest. The toy bear was soft and warm, filled to the seams with comfort that was all but tangible. "It's just like what the real pilot's wear."

"It _is_ what real pilots wear! Papa gave me this one 'cuz he's getting a new one!" his twin fairly shouted, tugging at the earflaps of the flight helmet some sizes too big for his head.

"I'd rather have Papa home."

"But he's out fighting the stinky Krauts, right?" Miming two finger guns, he screwed one eye shut to focus some imaginary crosshairs. "Like a hero!"

"I don't know, Alfred. W-what if Papa gets hurt?"

"Papa won't get hurt – he can't! Besides, he promised to be home for Christmas, remember?"

Stomach knotting hopefully, Matthew nodded.

_"What is this?" Gilbert wondered, unsure if he had actually spoken. He was drifting in and out of the warmly tinted images of a life lived long before, wishing for a moment that he had his bear again; it was so sweet against his chest, as if it had lent its life force to him until he felt safe and reassured. But wait, the bear wasn't his; it belonged to Matthew. Who was Matthew?_

_ The blackness faded then once more, and Gilbert floated gently down into place._

A broad-shouldered man, tall and strapping, laughed as he situated his identically stocking hat-wearing, winter coat-bundled sons on the wooden slats of the sled.

"Hang on tight, men!" he commanded in a booming voice, winking with deep blue eyes that held all the rich heat of the August sky. "Straight on to Berlin!"

Alfred whooped from in front of Matthew, thrusting a mittened fist into the air. "Allied victory!"

And down they sped, the metal runners of the sled barely keeping contact with the Earth as they hurtled forward. For several exhilarating heartbeats, the boys were almost convinced that the white drifts surrounding them were banks of cloud rather than of crunching snow.

_As he withdrew from the scene with his nose smarting with cold, Gilbert wondered vaguely about the last time he'd graced a ski hill. Flickers of a day spent having his face crushed into the flavorless powder until it had burned rushed back to him accompanied by the carefree laughter of one Elizabeta Hédévary._

_ "Jesus," he thought dimly, as though drugged, already being sucked slowly into another foreign memory. "One of these days I've gotta take West."_

The bed was heaped high with blankets, but their scratchy, woolen heat reached none of Matthew's shivering limbs. He curled onto his side in a ball, trying to disappear and escape from the misery clogging his nasal passages and beating into his temples.

A wet cough alerted him of his brother's shared suffering, the other boy safely tucked into his own small bed. Wracked with shivers and battling for breath, Matthew wished for the companionship of the soft, white bear currently shut away into the closet. Kiku had given it to him for safekeeping when he and his family had had to move away. In that blissful moment of distraction from his own wretched condition, Matthew wondered if the Honda family was having fun camping – he and Alfred had always begged to be allowed to go in the summer. Maybe they would try asking again this year…

He fell into a coughing fit, lungs burning emptily while at the same time feeling full and heavy.

Mama and Papa were murmuring in the doorway, but his plugged ears could gather no more than the bare outlines of their thinning voices. However, the fear in their conversation could not reach the sick boy huddled within the secure walls of his blanket cocoon.

_There was warm, salty moisture at his cheeks as he withdrew, dread seizing his heart in a vise grip._

_ "Why are you crying?" A faint whisper stirred the otherwise-still air. Before he could respond, the breath was snatched from Gilbert's throat and he was thrust mercilessly into one last scene._

"I'm here! I'm here!" The words spilled from his quivering lips as Matthew hiccupped desperately. His parents and brother were sitting around the radio, all solemn (though slightly less, perhaps, for Alfred) and seemingly propped up on each other for support. Seated primly on the empty armchair across from them was the twice beloved, twice abandoned teddy bear, just waiting to be snatched up and held.

"Mama? Papa? Alfred, it's me!" Matthew stomped his foot hopelessly, a fresh wave of tears breaking out as he knees crumpled beneath him. "I'm right here, see? I'm Matthew…"

_"Matthew!" His throat was raw with the name, the impression carving itself into the reddened tissue. "Matthew, you're here! I see you!"_

_ The boy stood wordlessly before Gilbert, observing the man's tears with a reserved sort of sympathy. "I always thought they were ignoring me."_

_ "No." Shaking his head, he forced a small smile. "You were damned lucky to have a family like that."_

_ Matthew laughed quietly. "It was aces."_

_ He cut off sharply, though, and when the albino began to ask why, he realized that he had been holding the stuffed bear to his chest the entire time. Seeing the child's indigo gaze locked onto the toy, Gilbert lifted it to look it in the eyes. "What's the story here, huh? This thing… I'm beginning to think it's got magical powers or some crazy shit like that."_

_ The boy grinned, happy droplets bubbling up in his eyes. "His name, I just remembered it!"_

_ "Huh? You did?" Offering it out to Matthew, he watched as it was snatched up and hugged with desperate force. "What's its name?"_

_ "Kumajirou," was the murmured answer, hanging contentedly in the steadily warming atmosphere. "His name is Kumajirou."_

* * *

><p>"… but deliver us from evil. Amen."<p>

There was something sticky on his forehead when Gilbert jolted into awareness, sitting upright and inadvertently head butting the man stooped over him.

"Fuck shit damn, fuck shit!" Lovino's furious curses welcomed him back into the world of the living, his red face so contorted with rage that the veins in temples and neck seemed likely to burst. "What the fuck? I was trying to help you, douche bag!"

Palms pressed to his own newly acquired head injury, the albino squinted at the coffee-locked man. "How the hell was I supposed to know that? I just woke up with your goddamn face in mine!"

A fist flew out of nowhere and toppled Gilbert backwards. He turned a full reverse somersault before catching himself, still suffering somewhat from the goose egg rising on his forehead. "What the hell?"

"You asshole, Gilbert Beilschmidt, I was worried about you!" Elizabeta's face was pale and held the evidence of tears, her nose still streaming rather freely. "You just collapsed out of nowhere… I thought you'd died, you dick!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Holding his hands up in defense, the young man frowned. "I just got rid of your ghost, and you're going to scream at me? I cleared up the whole freaking problem singlehandedly and the thanks I get is you two idiots cussing me out?"

The others paused, exchanging a look, then nodded in unison.

"Idiot! Making us worry-"

"-oughta shove this crucifix up your ass-"

"-beat you senseless-"

"-a fucking retard like you exorcising a ghost-"

"-I love you, dammit-"

"-fucking hate your guts-"

"-but you make this so hard with that stupid ego of yours!"

Gilbert barely hid his smirk. "Are you guys done bitching yet, or am I gonna have to get some popcorn?"

"Oh you!" Growling her frustration, the brunette finally just stalked over and grabbed him by the cheeks, kissing him deeply so that he could taste her peppery anger. She retreated only when their lungs were bursting for air, and their hearts had stopped racing for fear and had started for excitement. Preparing to move his lips down to worship her unguarded neck, the man was stopped only when he heard obnoxious, childish retching.

"Get a room," Lovino spat when the albino shot a glare in his direction for having wrecked the mood. "Anyway, are you gonna pay me or what?"

"Pay you?" The incredulous note in Gilbert's voice held the promise of disbelieving laughter as he blinked at the man. "Are you kidding me? I practically sent Matthew off by myself!"

"Yeah, so?" he pouted. "I spent a fucking week learning how to exorcise spirits for you."

"Why didn't you, then?" Elizabeta asked mildly. "I mean, why didn't the ghost possess you instead?"

The supposed exorcist's face burned scarlet as he mumbled out some semblance of an answer.

"What?"

"I-it's…"

"It's what?"

"The spirit enters the purest fucking soul present, okay?" With humiliated air of defeat, Lovino jabbed a finger in the albino's direction. "You're the only virgin here, dammit, so he chose you!"

Now it was Gilbert's turn to blush.

"Well, we can take care of that later." Sending a wink in her long-time friend's direction, the woman smiled gently at Lovino. "Since you did help us a lot, take this."

He stared down at the once-white teddy bear placed in his hands. "What the fuck?"

"It's worth a lot since it's old," she promised him, standing beside Gilbert and working her hand into his. Squeezing it tightly, Elizabeta continued, "I want you to keep it as a souvenir of your first exorcism."

"Well… fine then, I guess." Lovino held it gingerly by the ear. "It's probably so fucking old that it's infected with fucking cholera or something."

The would-be priest had his hand on the doorknob before the albino found himself suddenly blurting, "Wait!"

"What?" Standing on the doorstep, the black-clad man gave him a look of utter loathing.

"You don't know his name yet." Embarrassed by the childish urgency he was feeling, he kicked at the ground before meeting the other's hazel gaze, saying, "His name is Kumajirou."


	16. Chapter 16: When He Got Lucky

A/N: Probably about two more chapter after this left. ^^

In the meantime, I'm planning also writing two bonus ministories outlining certain events that were alluded to but not explored.

Also, I'm thinking of doing what I did at the end of Guardian: if anyone's got questions about anything that's happened/etc., drop me a line and I'll answer it along with Gilbert, Elizabeta, and Ludwig. ^^

* * *

><p>Chapter 16: When He Got Lucky<p>

"I'm home!"

"Welcome back, Gilbert!" Ludwig smiled contentedly from the sofa. "Eliza and I were waiting for you!"

"Of course you were," he teased, entering the living room and giving both people seated on the couch a quick kiss – on the forehead for his brother, and on the cheek for his girlfriend. "How do you two manage without me?"

"Barely," was the sarcastic reply as Elizabeta rose from her seat to accompany Gilbert into the kitchen. "We made goulash for dinner."

Following the exorcism adventure, the two young people had leveled their tentative relationship up to legitimate dating and, after much discussion, they had agreed to relocate to Elizabeta's house where Gilbert wouldn't have to worry about making the rent and could focus on saving up to buy a place of his own. When he had packed up the last of his seven shirts and three pairs of pants, he set out in search of the former tenant to ask her kindly to leave before the new renters moved in. It was strange, though, because he never saw her again, nor did he ever hear complaints from the couple that took to occupying the space soon after he left. Gilbert couldn't help but think that she'd found some sort of rest.

Meanwhile, he had developed a set of problems far from the usual work-related jams he was accustomed to navigating. The foremost of these was his constantly being reminded that Elizabeta would be returning to college in the fall, and that their moments of happiness would quickly dissolve away as they grew apart once more. Though she promised to visit him and his brother on weekends and holidays, the man continued to harbor bitter feelings about the whole situation. In this he had settled upon being stubborn and selfish – now that he had hold of her, he swore to himself never to let Elizabeta go where he wouldn't be able to follow.

"How was the pawn shop today?" she asked, spooning up her favorite food and offering the dish to him. "Not selling haunted toys to anyone, are you?"

"Haunted toys? What kind of idiot would buy something like that?" Seating himself, he took a large mouthful of the stew and shrugged. "Nah, but I had some Chinese guy come in today with all sorts of awesome stuff. Holy fuck, that shit was old."

"And the middle school?"

"Almost done with the major summer cleaning. Well, and Lilli's still hanging around. She hasn't been all too talkative lately, though – I think she's starting to feel cut off since the kids are out for the summer, y'know?"

"You're not going to have to exorcise her, too, are you?"

He sighed heavily, knuckles pressing into his cheek as he leaned on the counter. "I really hope not. That would be a pain in the ass."

Lapsing into a contentedly silence, Gilbert and Elizabeta allowed themselves to simply bask in the comforting presence of the other.

_Are you really okay?_ she asked with her wide, beautiful eyes, rimmed with a thick fringe of black-painted lashes.

_I'm fine, _he lied silently in return. Ever since the exorcism, he had been feeling just slightly under the weather, all clammy palms and cold sweats. To top it off, he was always tired now, as though Matthew had been rocketed out to the Great Beyond at the expense of the albino's own life force. His muscles ached, his eyes burned beneath their contact lenses, and he couldn't seem to stay warm no matter how tightly he clung to Elizabeta.

An electronic ringing echoed through the modest-sized home, coming from the living room where the telephone was kept. However, it remained largely ignored by the two in the kitchen as they stared fixed at each other, both refusing to be the first to blink.

"Gilbert?" Eventually Ludwig entered the room with the receiver held aloft, looking vaguely frustrated at having had his television-watching time interrupted. "There's an English man on the phone who wants to talk to you."

Withdrawing himself from the silent communication, his brother accepted the device with a strange expression. "A Brit, huh? The hell's he want?"

Elizabeta smacked him, mouthing the words, "Be polite."

"Hello?"

"Is this Gilbert Beilschmidt?" An irritable male voice asked briskly, the accent all but dripping from his words.

"Who's asking?"

"Arthur Kirkland, a pleasure, I'm sure. Mr. Beilschmidt, I have a business proposal for you-"

His ears perked, and the young man let out a rasping chuckle. "No shitting? You've got a job for me?"

The stranger named Arthur snorted. "Why would I call to tell you if I didn't?"

"I dunno, prank call?" He shrugged. "Anyway, what sorta job is it?"

"I'll tell you, but I want to meet with you first for an evaluation. Could you come to Antonio's house within the hour? He tells me you know where he lives."

"Yeah, I got it. I'll be there."

When he hung up, Elizabeta held her hands out to the side in a gesture that demanded answers. "Who's giving you a job? What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later!" Charging out to the mudroom to cram his feet back into his previously discarded Converse, the albino barely waved as he hopped clumsily out of the house and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"Hmph. I suppose you're quite decent looking given your circumstances." The short man circled Gilbert slowly, scrutinizing him with sharp eyes nestled beneath a colossal pair of dark, bristly brows. "The way Antonio described you, I had expected piercings and tattoos."<p>

"You need money for those, and I don't exactly have loads of it lying around," he grunted in response, shooting his friend a questioning look and wondering what he might have possibly said. According to the nurse, he and this Arthur character had first met in college – though they'd never been particularly friendly – and he'd just recently begun hearing the man's name circulating around the hospital as "the sort of person you oughta talk to, Gil." Now, Antonio only grinned at him in a self satisfied manner, flashing a double thumbs up as he abandoned his friend with the peculiar, British stranger.

Running a hand through his clipped, dirty-blond hair, Arthur ceased his observations and returned to an end table where a steaming cup of tea had been left for him by his host. "Well, given I'm satisfied with your abilities, that might change very soon."

"What are you, anyway? A pimp?" Pulling a face, Gilbert took half a step back. "What the hell abilities are you talking about?"

The British man spat out the mouthful of tea he'd just taken, coughing but managing to frown sharply. "What do you think, git? Your _vision!_ I'm talking about your vision!"

"My vision?"

He reached back around behind himself and lifted Kumajirou from his host's couch, holding it tenderly in his neatly-manicured hands. "This bear belonged to my great uncle Matthew before he died of pneumonia."

"Actually, it was some Japanese kid's," the albino corrected mildly. "He gave it to Matthew when he and his family moved out to the internment camps."

"Is that so?"

Gilbert didn't like the glint in the other's green eyes; they were a shade brighter than Elizabeta's, and held the quiet spark of one who knew something no one else did. A condescending sneer crept over the blonde's thin lips as he restored the plush toy to its place on the couch.

"What can you tell me about my great uncle, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"Just Gilbert – 'Mr. Beilschmidt' makes me sound like a fucking school teacher."

"Very well, 'just Gilbert', answer the question."

"He was quiet, I guess, a cute kid, though. Really sweet. Oh, and his brother, your grandpa, I'm guessing… holy shit, that kid was like the freaking Energizer bunny!"

"That's Grandfather," Arthur agreed. "Really, I wish he would just accept that he's gotten older and just can't live like he used to…"

"He didn't seem like the type to settle down."

"He's not." Fixing the albino with his full attention, he continued, "Antonio says you can see them."

"If by 'them' you mean ghosts, you got it." It was strange, but this time admitting it didn't feel like tightening a noose around his neck, rather it felt something similar to taking credit for having written the man's favorite poem.

The blonde grinned tightly, as though showing too much pleasure would be physically painful. Turning to address someone out of the room, he raised his voice just slightly to call out, "Francis?"

"_Ouí?_" A handsome man of waving, gold locks and eyes like mocking sapphires appeared in the doorway, lounging against the frame in a way that suggested he'd been there the entire time.

"Where have you been? Bloody pervert, I don't suppose you were at your usual voyeurism."

Before Francis could respond, Arthur raised a hand. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Who's this?"

Blue eyes widened, and the look of wonder that crossed the man's attractive (if wholly patronizing) face. "_Mon Dieu, _he can see me?"

Then it struck Gilbert that this man had no shadow, that his movements produced no circulation of air. He had been so distracted that he hadn't even noticed… "You're dead, aren't you?"

"Excellent observation." With a sarcastic exhalation (which sounded suspiciously like an exasperated sigh), he drew his incredible brows low to adopt a solemn expression. "Mister- er, Gilbert, as I said before, I have a business proposal for you."

He took the opportunity to nod and half roll his eyes as if to say, "Well, no shit. That's why I'm here."

Arthur continued, either having not seen the display or having ignored it entirely. "I would like for you to work for me as a paranormal investigator.

Gilbert blinked, then laughed reflexively. "A paranormal investigator?"

"Well, there's no call to say it like that!" snapped the reddening Briton. Placing his hands to his hips like a nanny scolding a misbehaving child, he glanced back to Francis for support. "It's a perfectly respectable occupation, thank you very much."

"So, you mean, that's what you do for a living?"

"Of course I do, git. That's why I'm recruiting you." Huffily drawing a professional-looking case from his pants pocket, Arthur slipped out a business card and handed it to him.

"Kirkland Paranormal Agency?" The albino frowned, observing the PhD following the other's name. "You went to college for this?"

"And I've written several books on the matter as well."

"That is to say, he hasn't much of a social life, _mon ami,_" the blond ghost piped up smoothly, shooting his still-breathing counterpart a smug wink. "You might say that I'm the only company he keeps regularly."

"That's only because you've fastened yourself to me, twat!" spat Arthur. Then, tsking over his shoulder, he asked Gilbert, "So, are you going to work for me or not?"

"Uh…"

"I'll provide lodging for you and your brother – there's an empty flat above our headquarters, anyway."

"But-"

"No, I won't take it from your pay. So long as you work well and I'm satisfied, I promise that you shan't have money problems any longer."

Gripping the card tightly and feeling the stiff paper going limp in his excitement-dampened palm, Gilbert took one last look and felt the world grind to a halt. The address of the so-called headquarters, the city name printed so neatly beneath the building number and street, it couldn't possibly be…

"Hey, this is in-"

"Yes, I know it's in a bit of a university town and all, but I happen to teach at that particular school, and I-"

The albino snatched up his new employer's hand and shook enthusiastically so that he very nearly dislocated both of their arms. "Whatever it is, I'm in. You've got yourself a deal!"


	17. Chapter 17: Why He Smiled

A/N: Hey, it's a short chapter (I'm sorry)! But there's still one more and an epilogue. And the bonus stories.

Thanks for sticking with me, you guys! You've all been great!

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><p>Chapter 17: Why He Smiled<p>

"So," he had announced dramatically, strolling through the front door of the Hédévary residence. "If I were to tell you I got a job today, what would you say?"

"Congratulations," Elizabeta had answered promptly, as though she'd been expecting it the whole time. Sensing the composed sort of adult-ish excitement descending upon the room, Ludwig had clapped enthusiastically.

"And," he had paused again. With an attention-loving smirk, he had raised his arms up in preparation of a sweeping bow. "What if I told you that the headquarters for that job is a block from a college for violent, rehabilitated tomboys?"

Completely ignoring the last bit of the statement, Elizabeta had sprung to her feet with a thrilled squeal and had thrown her arms around her boyfriend with crushing force.

After a quick explanation to Ludwig that they would soon have a place to stay so that their newest family member wouldn't have to be so far away, the eager trio had settled together on the sofa to watch clichéd cop dramas in the warm, fuzzy afterglow of wonderful news, three pairs of hands all interlaced tightly as though to imply that they would never be separated again.

* * *

><p>"God, I'm so happy."<p>

Grinning widely at him, Elizabeta shifted her weight to lean more heavily across his chest so that she could peck affectionately at his smooth-shaven chin. "I know, I'm happy for you, too."

"I can't even believe it." He twirled a lock of her chestnut hair around two pale fingers and lifted it to his nose to breathe in her familiar, paprika-like scent mixed with the fruity-floral smell of her shampoo. Pressing his lips almost reverently to the silky curls, he released them and rested his hand between her shoulder blades instead. "I keep thinking that this is all just too good to happen to me. I mean, there's gotta be some sort of catch somewhere…"

"Or maybe," the woman interrupted with a short giggle. "It's just that all your shitty karma's finally gone and you're gonna start being really lucky. Better go buy a lottery ticket while everything's still looking up."

"Yeah right, I'll end up being part of the statistic of people who get hit on their way to buy the damn things."

"Only I'm allowed to hit you with my car, Gilbert. If anyone else does, I'm gonna have to do something about it."

Snorting, he continued massaging lightly at her back, if only to keep his adrenaline-fuelled fingers busy. "Isn't that romantic? Fuck Cupid's arrows, Lizzie's got her seventeen-year-old two-door that gets the job done just as well."

"Ha ha." Elizabeta inhaled deeply, then fell silent, resting her ear against the man's almost bony chest to listen.

"What'dya say?" Adopting a teasing expression of worry, he asked, "Am I gonna make it, doc?"

"Mm, yes." In a increasingly common gesture of affection, she toyed with his crooked bangs and tweaked his nose. "But just barely."

Their lips met just once, but only once because the moment the kiss had begun, both parties knew that they lacked the will to pull apart.

A comfortable warmth washed over Gilbert, a welcome reprieve from a week and a half of constant chills. He could feel her life, Elizabeta's heartbeat and breath against his skin, and the sensation was killing him. It was all too much, too perfect for a person of such pitiable luck as his.

"I'm going to either wake up from all of this, or I'm never gonna wake up again," he half joked when they had paused for air. His lover's elbow jabbed him then, sharply angling into his stomach.

"Geez, we kiss passionately, then you go and make a morbid-ass comment like that." Rolling her eyes, Elizabeta's mouth twitched into a smirk. "Way to be a lady killer, Gilbert. Or maybe that was mood killer…?"

"What can I say? I'm gonna talk to dead people for a living." He shrugged, mentally preparing for the mush-fest that was going to leap from his tongue any second. "But, if I were to die tomorrow, I'd say that I was lucky as hell being with you for my last night."

Without missing a beat, the brunette burst into laughter, prompting the albino's ears to darken further. "That was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard!"

He searched for a snarky, clever response, but found none and instead tumbled head over heels into an abyss of speechless humiliation. Realizing suddenly that he was being quite serious, she bit her lip.

"It was sweet, though."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Really." And she kissed him to prove that even if his little pick up line was the cheesiest thing she'd ever been told by a man, it had definitely been the most affectionate.


	18. Chapter 18: Where the Story Ends

Disclaimer: The songs referenced in this chapter do not belong to me. While I'm at it, neither does Hetalia.

A/N: Only the epilogue now! I was up until 4am finishing all of this, so I'm pretty pumped for the end. As much as I've loved this story, all good things must end eventually, ja? I hope you've enjoyed this. Feel free to ask if anything's been unclear up to this point. I have been honored with so many wonderful reviews and readers, that I would like to thank you all!

On a separate note, I actually wrote the second part of this chapter very shortly after writing the beginning of the story. Go figure. ^^

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><p>Chapter 18: Where the Story Ends<p>

"Will I ever see Feliciano again?" Ludwig was asking from the backseat of Elizabeta's two-door sedan.

His brother nodded, only half listening as he scanned the radio stations for something, anything, that he wouldn't be embarrassed to play with his brother in the car.

_"… I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care-"_

He continued searching hastily.

"Gilbert?"

"Sure you will, West. We're not moving, like, across the country or anything. It's only a few hours away."

The boy frowned slightly, hands twisting nervously at his seatbelt. "But what if he's being dumb and forgets his books without me? Or if he gets lace up shoes and forgets how to tie them? Or if someone's bullying him and all he does is cries and runs away?"

"What're you, his mom?" Chuckling (and feeling damn proud that he'd raised such a great kid), Gilbert turned and tousled his hair. "Feli's gonna be just fine. Besides, I'm sure you'll make lots of new friends at your new school. If not, you tell me which ones are trouble and I'll kick the shit out of 'em, okay?"

"Gilbert, didn't you need to stop at the bank?" Elizabeta asked, leaning forward to observe some asshole following up too closely on her rear. "You've already gone to the post office and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, just the bank. Thanks, Liz."

As the packed car took a right towards town, the albino continued twirling the radio dial, as though searching for a good omen in the mishmash of airing songs.

_"… we'll feel so alive. Throw it away, forget yesterday, we'll make the great escape."_

* * *

><p>The air conditioning hit him like a wall of arctic wind hovering in place to send goose bumps and chills across the summer sun-heated flesh of its victims. Lowering his dark sunglasses, Gilbert blinked against the fluorescent lights of the bank.<p>

"Can I help you?" An impatient, business-like man called to him from behind the nearest desk, a pen held loosely between his fingers tapping restlessly at the wooden surface.

"Uh, yeah." Sitting down in the provided chair, he fidgeted, always uncomfortable around the sorts of people who wore suits and ties and rushed about their lives in a constant, impatient bustle of meetings and conferences. "I'm moving out of town, so I need to close my account and get a transfer."

"Of course." The bank employee's tone was clipped. Setting his fingers to the keyboard, he glanced from the monitor to the man's face. "Name?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

He asked a few other questions, nodding briskly in response and never once attempting to engage his client in any sort of friendly conversation. However, this was just as well as Gilbert had been trying to decide where he had seen this man before. There was something painfully familiar about him, and it seemed so obvious that the albino felt as though he could scream his frustration for not being able to recognize him.

"Here you are, Mr. Beilschmidt. Have a nice day."

"Oh, thanks." Stuffing the envelope into his back pocket (in a gesture that made the other man cringe), he turned to leave.

"Excuse me, Mr. Beilschmidt? Don't forget your sunglasses." The bank employee stopped him, pointing them out with his pen.

Grinning sheepishly, he reached for the glasses but froze when he caught sight of the nameplate beside which they were sitting. _Vash Zwingli._

"Your sunglasses," Vash repeated impatiently, glaring at him with emerald eyes so like those of a certain ghost that they sent shivers down the albino's back. Of course. How could he have missed it? Even the hairstyle was the same, as though Lilli had been imitating her beloved brother when she was still… when she had been-

"You had a sister." Gilbert's tone was more certain than questioning and seemed to set the blonde on edge.

"Yes," he answered curtly, returning the man's belongings with a quick, harsh motion. "But unfortunately she's no longer with us. Have a nice-"

"She idolizes you, y'know."

A spasm of emotion played across the banker's sour face, revealing what must have been a nervous, frightened young man struggling towards an uncertain future. The desperation and worry that had etched themselves into his brow were so familiar that Gilbert almost reached out to him.

Instead, he continued, pushing the sunglasses back onto his head. "All I ever hear is how great you are and how much she loves you."

"You must be mistaken." Vash narrowed his eyes angrily, as though frustrated for letting his excitement and hope get the best of him. "I already explained that my sister passed away… years ago."

Scribbling down an address on an available paper scrap, the albino pushed it over the desk at the man and flashed an infuriatingly knowing smirk. "I know."


	19. Epilogue

A/N: It's been loads of fun, you guys, and I've really enjoyed writing for you. ^^ I hope you like the epilogue, and keep an eye out for the bonus stories I'll write at my own leisure (not half as promptly as I have the chapters) but you will most certainly see them.

Thanks again for following me until this point!

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><p>Epilogue<p>

_ My brother, Gilbert Beilschmidt, is possibly the most stubborn, proud, hard-working person I've ever met. It wasn't until recently that I realized just how much he struggled to put things together for me, especially when I was young._

_I remember vaguely living in a chaotically cluttered home, small and with only one bedroom (that being the one that I used), and being teased for having a crazy brother who walked to work and talked to people who didn't exist. _

_However, I don't remember if I ever thanked him then for the nights he came in late from work thinking that I was asleep and wouldn't hear him, or for the really tough times when he had to forage for food at the school or the movie theater because he didn't want to take away from my own limited selection at home. I don't remember if I ever thanked him for encouraging me and my dreams when just taking care of me had robbed him of the ability to have dreams of his own._

_I was nine-years-old when Elizabeta came into our lives-_

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait… you get this really great start, then you throw her in? C'mon, West, I was just starting to think you were finally doing me some justice here!"

Ludwig cracked a small grin, lips twitching as he snatched back his school paper. "If I'm going to tell the story properly, I'm going to have to introduce her at some point or another."

"Nah, what you _really_ need to do is go into some detail describing the protagonist here." With a cackle, Gilbert kicked his heels up onto the table and laced his fingers behind his head. "I think 'dashingly handsome' and 'unbelievably skilled' would be some good places to start."

"How about 'unbelievably pig-headed'?" Elizabeta appeared from the kitchen wearing an expression of mock disgust that was directed at the lounging man.

"Thank you, honey," he snorted, rolling his eyes at her before whisperingly loudly, "Make sure to add something about how she cried like a little girl when I exorcised that ghost, okay?"

A manicured hand flashed out and caught him upside the head, bringing to his lips a mixture of laughter and cursing as he so nearly tipped over backwards in his chair.

The blond boy only chuckled and shook his head. In his second year of high school, Ludwig was fifteen years old and living with his older brother and said brother's fiancée. The three of them had been living together for almost five years now and, though they sometimes argued and fought, they had come to form a neat little family of their own.

Shuffling through the printed pages in his hands, Ludwig pretending to scan them pensively. "Then where should I put in the part about you getting down on your knees half-wasted and begging her to marry you?"

"Ah! You little smartass!" The albino thrust an accusatory finger in Elizabeta's direction. "I blame you for that!"

"Beats being a dumbass, dear."

"Hey!"

The looks on their faces as they tried not to laugh were so funny that it was all the teenager could do to stop himself from snorting.

Then, as it always did to mark the beginning of new adventure, a cellphone rang from somewhere in the apartment. Gilbert was on his feet in a moment, tracking the "Ghostbusters" theme to the buzzing device as Elizabeta caught the blonde's amused gaze and winked.

"Looks like your awesome breadwinner has gotten another job," the man announced as he reentered the room amidst absurdly flamboyant hand gestures and bows. "Thanks to my incredible providing abilities, we won't have to scrounge at the movie theater for stale popcorn for dinner."

His brother opened his mouth to object, catching the jab directed at his writing, only for Gilbert to wave him off.

"And, cranky-ass Arthur has finally fucking looked over my vacation request form and agreed to give me the December of next year off."

"Why?"

He said nothing, instead smirking so widely that it seemed to be entirely possible that the upper portion of his head could simply detach from the lower and topple onto the ground while still sneering up with glinting eyes. His fiancée had said nothing when she'd heard this, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she slowly made all the connections. Finally, she blinked.

"Next December?"

"Next December."

"You mean…"

The childlike excitement was written boldly across his face as he struggled to keep his voice level. "Didn't you say you wanted a Christmas wedding?"

Elizabeta sprang across the room and threw her arms around Gilbert with a wordless shout of joy. They kissed then, holding each other tightly, with their hearts pounding with synchronized exhilaration. When they parted, breathless with anticipation for an event finally set after years and months of constant wondering, the woman only screwed her eyes shut and fastened onto her future husband with remarkable strength.

"Hey, West, two things." Catching sight of his sibling's dumbfounded look over the shoulder of the particularly emotional Hungarian, Gilbert winked. "First, will you be my best man?"

Ludwig flushed with pride, barely managing to stutter out, "O-of course!"

"Great," he laughed. "Second, you had better finish that story, 'And they all fucking lived happily ever after, the end.'"

_And they all fucking lived happily ever after, the end._


	20. Bonus Story 1

A/N: In which Friedrich II has a cameo. ^^

* * *

><p>Bonus Story 1<p>

"I'm not lying!" Stomping his light-up sneakered foot, the six-year-old's voice gained volume and pitch as he loudly insisted, "He _is _real! He's right here!"

His young teacher only frowned. The indicated space was empty, and she was far beyond her wit's end. Gilbert had been talking to himself all day, disrupting the class and garnering the curious attentions of his classmates. Forcing herself to remain professional, she set her hands to her hips. "Fine, but tell your imaginary friend to stay at home tomorrow. I can't have you being a distraction like this every day."

"But he's not my-!"

"That's enough, Gilbert."

With furious, humiliated tears in his eyes, the boy stormed back to his table and plunked into the small plastic chair amidst his peer's unintentionally cruel giggles.

"Calm yourself, child." His invisible companion smiled kindly, running bony fingers through Gilbert's unnaturally pale blond hair in an attempt to comfort him. Seeing the salty, stinging moisture building in the albino's wavering gaze, the ghost knelt and wiped them away. "You have been blessed with a gift most people could not even begin to understand. You should be proud of yourself."

"But it stinks, old man." Pulling in his lower lip and biting back his sobs, he glanced indignantly at the specter. "She's calling me a liar."

"That's something you are going to have to learn to accept. Like I said, most people simply cannot believe in the things they cannot see."

At this point, the other kindergarteners had turned away from him in favor of listening to their teacher explain the letter "P". Only one continued to watch his seemingly one-sided conversation.

"Hey, Gilbert," Eli, his next-door neighbor (whose real name, he had learned by accident, was Elizabeta), whispered from behind him. "Who're you talking to?"

"Old man Fritz," he hissed back defensively. "And he _is _real."

"I believe you." She (for, though a chronic tomboy, she was indeed a girl) grinned, her wide, gold-flecked green eyes sparkling at him the same way they did on a balmy summer night of stargazing or on a crisp, grey-hued fall day of climbing trees and scattering leaf piles. "You have special eyes, so you can probably see better than anyone."

He toyed with the frames of his thick glasses in a self conscious manner. "Maybe."

He didn't want to tell her that he thought _she_ was the one with special eyes because that was icky – who knew what would happen if he did. Worst case scenario, she would kiss him, and they would have to get married because everyone with half a brain knew that babies came from kisses.

"You have a good friend in her, my child," the old man said, as though Gilbert didn't already know on his own. "Keep her close to you, and do not surrender her over easily."

When the boy had turned to ask what he meant, he discovered that the ghost had vanished. "Old man?"

"Gilbert, turn around." The teacher tapped the whiteboard impatiently. "Can you tell me a word that starts with 'P'?"

"Prussia?"

"Russia doesn't start with a 'P', Gilbert. Try again."

"I saw it on the history channel!"

"Another word, Gilbert."

"Pissant." This gem had been snatched from one of his father's many phone conversations, then stashed away with the understanding that it had been bad enough that to repeat it had earned him a swat across the backside.

Nostrils flaring in anger, the woman stalked to the boy's table and stooped to his level so that she could reprimand him with her burning gaze. "That is _not_ a word we use here."

"Pissant?" Eli piped up from behind him, laughing. Repeating the word carefully, as though sampling some new, exotic food, she and her friend watched as their teacher's face turned an interesting shade of crimson.

Finally, she snapped. Inhaling deeply through her nose, the adult stood and fairly growled, "Both of you, go to office right now."

And the two of them sprang to their feet to go. It wasn't the first time they had done something to be sent to visit the principal, and it happened quite often that if one got in trouble, the other would quickly join in so that they could avoid making the shameful trek alone.

Just before he exited the room, Gilbert turned on his heel and pointed at his teacher with an expression of impish triumph. "Pissant."

"Office, now!"

And the halls rang with peals of laughter shared between the albino and his partner-in-troublemaking as the two raced each other down to the principal's office. Even though the day would end with a call home each, and complaints of Gilbert's insistence concerning his "imaginary friend", the children only grinned to each other and enjoyed the wondrous moment of flying down the empty corridor side-by-side and step for step.

Heart pounding contentedly in his chest, the boy thought that, just maybe, he was beginning to understand what the old man had said.


	21. Bonus Story 2

A/N: Actually a lot more traumatic than I'd originally intended - an expansion on an incident vaguely mentioned in Chapter 9: Who He Called. Gilbert didn't initially like his brother, Ludwig. In fact, he hated him because of their mother's death due to complications.

Hey, I'm going to be changing my username to "Flashback 1701", so keep an eye out! :D

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><p>Bonus Story 2<p>

That stupid, ugly little brother was ruining Gilbert's life. In fact, he already _had _ruined his life just by being born. Some days, only their father's constant watch kept the dissatisfied albino boy from snatching up the infant and shaking him while screaming, "Give me back my mom!" Mostly, Gilbert just wanted his brother to disappear.

At nine years old, the boy was already bitter with hatred and angry at the world. His mother should have never died.

"I don't know what to do with him anymore," he'd over heard his distant, workaholic father sighing to the neighbors. "He won't come out of his room, or when he does, he just terrorizes Ludwig."

Ludwig. It was _always_ about Ludwig.

Of all the things he despised about his unwanted sibling, the baby's physical appearance was the worst. Though he'd learned that his hair and eye color would darkened with time, Gilbert couldn't help but notice the similarities between Ludwig and their mother. He had the same wide, blue eyes, and the same soft locks that were steadily approaching the pale gold shade that had once graced their mother's head. The fact that this child looked so much like the woman who had died bringing him into the world was both a slap in the face and a stab in the chest. Gilbert's albinism separated him from the other members of his immediate family. Even then, his features were largely his father's, a sharp-nosed, narrow-eyed man of brown eyes and similarly colored hair.

The crawling infant was venturing towards the unguarded staircase as his father busily conversed over the phone with one business partner or another. Malice in his heart, Gilbert turned to leave the room without a word… and received a brisk slap across the face for his troubles.

"Gilbert Maria Beilschmidt, I raised you better than this!" Luise was dressed, as all ghosts seemed to be, in the last clothes she'd worn. Face pale and shadowed with the effort of having given birth, hair unbrushed and unwashed, she still managed to appear beautiful in her young son's eyes.

"Mom!" When he sprang forward to hug her, she stopped him with a stern hand on his shoulder.

Kneeling to meet his eyes with a deadly serious look, she whispered, "Why aren't you taking care of your brother, Gilbert?"

"Because he killed you."

"Ludwig didn't kill me, Gilbert."

"He did, too!"

"He did _not_." Squeezing his arm gently to emphasize her point, his mother drew in a long breath. "Don't be mad at your brother because of what happened to me; I love him so much that I didn't mind dying knowing that he would be alright."

"S-so you love him more th-than you love me?" The boy's voice cracked painfully as he struggled to hold back the tears he hadn't shed since the funeral. His grief from that point on had become rage which had been so much easier to shoulder. Stubbornly, stubbornly, he brought up a fist to force them back into his eyes. "I m-m-miss you so much, Mom… Why d-did you have t-to go like this?"

"Because everything happens for a purpose, Bertie," she assured him, slipping in the special name only she had ever used. Had her son's eyes not been blurred with grief, he might have noticed the moist trails lining her cheeks. Holding her voice steady because one of them needed to be strong, Luise pulled him into a tight embrace that almost hurt for the intensity. "And I loved you long before I loved your brother… You'll always be my little Bertie no matter what happens."

"M-Mom, please don't go…"

"Gilbert, I don't belong here."

"B-but you're our mom! Th-this is our house!"

She shook her head sorrowfully, kissing him on the cheek and temple as she pulled away. "Only the people who aren't happy can stay behind, but I _am _happy."

"Then why are you h-here right now?"

"Because you don't love your brother." Luise pinned him down with her firm sapphire eyes. "I'm not going to be here to love Ludwig like I was here to love you, so I need you to do me a favor."

"But-"

Taking up his small hands in hers, she pressed them together before bringing them to her lips and kissing them gently. His mother closed her eyes, tears falling freely past pale lashes, and whispered, "I need you to take care of your brother for me. I know you're a strong, tough, smart boy, Bertie, and I'm so, _so_ proud of you… Please, watch over Ludwig for me."

"But-"

"I want you to love him like you loved me, okay?" Finally, with one last kiss, she released her hold on him and rose slowly to her feet. "Please, Bertie?"

His love for his mother battled with his loathing of his brother until finally, the former beat out the latter and he nodded sullenly. "I will."

"That's my boy." Her cool fingers toyed playfully through his unruly locks, and she managed a smile. "I love you, Bertie."

"I-I love you, too, Mom…"

And she was gone.

Slumping to the floor in utter defeat, Gilbert whimpered into his knuckles where they were shoved into his mouth to muffle his sobs. It was too much – _too_ much – for any child to be mocked with a fleeting image of his deceased mother, but yet here he was. In that moment, he would have given anything to have her back for even just a moment longer.

An inquisitive coo interrupted his mourning, and he raised his head to find that his brother had steered away from the hazardous staircase in favor of following him around the corner into this short, dark hallway. Ludwig grinned happily at him, flexing an empty, chubby hand in a manner of greeting.

"Mah mah."

For the first time since his sibling's birth, Gilbert found that he couldn't muster up the will to despise him. Instead, he grudgingly gathered the baby up into his arms and carried him to the safety of the other room.

"Mah mah."

"I'm not your mom, okay?" he corrected, setting Ludwig down and eyeing him sharply. "I'm your big brother, Gilbert, and I'm gonna teach you everything there is to know about growing up, okay?"

"Mah…"

Deciding to take this as a yes, the albino knelt down and cautiously rubbed his hand over the sparse curls of hair that covered the child's soft, warm head. "Mom loved you a lot, okay, Ludwig? So… so don't feel bad that she's gone now. She left me here to make sure you can grow up to be as awesome as I did… okay?"

At this, his brother let out a gurgling laugh.

"I'm proud of you, Bertie."

Gilbert's hairs stood up on end, but he when he whirled to locate the source of the gentle murmur, he found the room to be empty but for Ludwig and himself. Sniffling, he turned back and tried to smile.

"Mah mah?" the youngest seemed asked, fat fingers indicating some uncertain area.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Mom."


	22. Bonus Story 3

A/N: Not originally intended to be written, but I had the beginnings of this in a notebook I found while cleaning out my room yesterday. :)

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><p>Bonus Story 3<p>

The school day was characterized by the constant buzz of overlapping conversation and the rush of a last second dash down the hall to class. As she elbowed through a solitary clump of freshman (who were completely hindering the flow of traffic, but seemed to remain blissfully unaware), Elizabeta scanned the crowded area for a familiar face.

"Like, omigod, are you kidding me? Ew, tell her he's, like, a total scumbag!"

She heard Feliks before she saw him waving a dramatic hand at some girl two locks down. When he caught sight of the approaching brunette, he grinned and waggled his fingers at her.

"Hey~ How it's going?" He lounged against her locker with his books clutched to his chest. "Your hair's looking absolutely gorgeous today."

"I used a blow dryer for once," she admitted, barely looking at him.

Feliks tossed his head in mock amusement. "Like, it was about time."

Wrestling her chemistry textbook from her book bag, Elizabeta tapped him with it threateningly.

"Omigod, who's that?"

She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if some hot new exchange student had been bestowed upon their school, and was disappointed when she found no one fitting that description. "Who's what?"

"That," he repeated, jamming a finger towards the small, Polaroid snapshot hanging in her locker. "Who is _that_?"

Removing the purple plastic magnet holding the photo in place, the girl smirked down at the captured image. "This is from when I was really little – still going through that tomboy phase, too."

"You say it like you grew out of it." Feliks hummed noncommittally. He relented somewhat when his friend cast him a dangerous glare. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"And when I was little I used to spend a lot of time with-"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

She frowned, crossing her arms and pretending to be annoyed. "I thought I was telling this story."

"Then get a move on, omigo-o-od…"

"Yes, I spent a lot of time with Gilbert. Happy?"

"I knew it."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Good job, you recognized the only albino in five hundred miles."

Ignoring her retort, the blonde's face split into a devious smile. "Aw, look, you two are, like, totally holding hands and stuff~ Don't tell me he was your childhood boy-"

"No."

"You never-?"

"_No._"

"But you were-"

"I never, _ever_ had _any_ sort of interest in-!"

"Damn, that's an old picture."

The sudden appearance of the third party made Feliks and Elizabeta jump. Straightening up from peering over their shoulders at the photo, Gilbert Beilschmidt let out a low chuckle.

"Reminiscing over old times without me, Liz?" He smirked.

"Reminiscing… that's a big word for a jock like you," she shot back. "Been getting homework help, Gilbert?"

"You're a regular laugh riot." Crimson eyes narrowed. "And here I was gonna do you a favor."

She squinted right back, her hands resting on her hips. "Get lost and I'll call it good."

He ignored her, though, and cleared his throat imperiously. Drawing an arm from behind him to reveal a bouquet clutched in a white-knuckled fist, he asked, "Liz, do you wanna go to prom with me?"

"Oh… my… god…"

Elizabeta blinked, then blinked again. Mouth hanging open and eyes somehow caught between the bright, cheerful blossoms that had been thrust towards her and the surprisingly bashful expression of the boy behind them.

"I know, I've stunned you speechless, right?" he gloated, chest puffed out with pride that seemed to be set in place to hide his red ear tips. "I figure you're cool enough to deserve a hot, awesome date like me, so I-"

"You really don't know that many people, do you?" Her response just sort of spilled from her lips, catching both of them off guard. Frowning, she watched as his eyebrows furrowed in that stubborn manner that had been constant since their shared (and seemingly distant) childhood.

"Hey, c'mon. If you don't wanna go, all you gotta do is just say 'no'." He grunted something to himself, jamming his flower-free hand into his jeans pocket. "Well?"

"No," Elizabeta could feel Feliks' disbelief as he stood behind her, and she could see the shock in the albino's rosy eyes. For a moment, she thought she read hurt in them, too, but it was gone in a moment as quickly as it had appeared.

"Oh."

She continued, "I mean, I just broke up with Roderich, and if we go to prom together, it might look… I mean, I don't want it to look like a total bitch and show up with you in case Roderich goes."

"Roderich Roderich Roderich…" Spitting his disgust, Gilbert scowled. "God, do you ever talk about anything else anymore?"

"Says the guy who wanted to tattoo his own name across his chest."

"I was kidding about that, dammit!"

"It doesn't matter! He was more of a gentleman than you'll ever be, Gilbert, and no means no!" Green eyes flashed as she stepped forward to address him nose to nose. "So you can just get fucking lost!"

Somehow the curse slipped into her speech, making Gilbert smirk faintly.

"I thought Roddykins didn't like it when you swore."

"Shut up, Gilbert!"

"Whatever." Stepping back, he heaved a sigh and offered her the flowers. "You want these?"

"No."

They were thrown, arcing gracefully before finding refuge in the nearest trashcan, the colorful blooms and tissue paper disappearing into the black-bagged abyss to join rejected essay papers and wads of chewed gum.

"I'll see you around, Liz."

"Oh my god, why didn't you just take them?" Feliks was scandalized, making desperate gestures towards the garbage bin. "Oh my god, they were beautiful, Lizzie!"

"I don't want anything that idiot gives me," she growled, heart hammering in her chest. Her knees gave out beneath her, and she slid with her back to the lockers until she was seated on the dirty, school floor. "Holy shit."

"What's the deal with you two?" Now, looking down at her expectantly, her friend asked, "Seriously, do you really actually hate him that much?"

"Oh… I don't know!" She beat the sides of her heads with her fists, eyes screwed shut and mouth shaping a scream. "He drives me up the fucking wall!"

"I'll say, I haven't heard you cuss this much since before you dated Roderich."

"Oh, shut up Feliks, you're not helping!" Moaning, she drew up her knees and hid her face behind them. "That guy is such an ass!"

Feliks waved the Polaroid that had stared the whole mess. "Even when you were kids?"

"It was different."

"Like, how?"

"We were kinda both asses."

"Oh?"

She grinned sheepishly. "You should see my middle school detention record."

The blond boy laughed.

"Anyway, the difference is that _I _grew up and he didn't. He's still just as immature as he was then."

"Did you have this total secret crush on him then, too?"

"I don't have a secret crush on him!" Elizabeta hissed, glancing sharply in the direction Gilbert had taken to leave. "I told you, we were just friends!"

"Friends, right. If you say so, sweetie."

Swatting his shins, the brunette flopped forward to rest her chin, defeated, on her knees. "I _do _say so. _He's_ the one who doesn't seem to believe me."


	23. Bonus Story 4

Bonus 4

"Elizabeta?" Ludwig stood with his bony hip leaned to the kitchen counter, his cell phone held casually to his chest as he called, "Elizabeta? Gilbert's on the phone."

"Tell him I am _not_ going out to drive his drunk ass home, so he might as well get comfy in the gutter!" the woman snapped from the other room, still fuming over an hours-old disagreement.

Wincing at the harsh retort, he sighed and muttered into the receiver, "Yeah… no. Don't come home tonight."

The teenager paused, expression darkening with his sibling's response.

"What? No! I'm not giving her the phone!"

Elizabeta sat, listening, on the couch with her knees drawn to her chin as she stewed in slowly dying rage. Her boyfriend (if she could stand to call him that after what had happened) was acting like an absolute fucking idiot, just as bad as she remembered him being when they'd gone to school together. And she'd been so sure that things had changed between them, that her ass of a boyfriend was (just maybe) "the one".

It had all started that morning when he'd charged off first thing without a word. He'd returned around lunchtime, and when she'd asked where he'd gone, Gilbert had only smirked, insisting that she didn't need to know. Then he'd looked at her with what could only be described as disgustingly suggestive eyes, his cheeks flushed and mouth twisted with wicked amusement. As far as she was concerned, he had fully earned her open palm full across his face.

He'd called her a crazy bitch, so she'd called him a horny lech, and he'd roared back that he didn't even know what the fuck that was supposed to mean and that she had no right to hit him, goddammit woman!

The situation had not so much gone downhill so much as it had become a hightly explosive runaway train racing wildly down the face of Mount Everest. Ludwig had come home from his first day of eighth grade to find the two of them almost at blows, faces red and eyes flashing like gunfire on a dark night. Gilbert had left shortly after, snatching up Elizabeta's car keys and driving off post haste.

That had been almost six hours ago.

"No, leave the car, Gilbert. Just… no, listen, just get a taxi and stay with Arthur or Antonio or… no. _No,_ Elizabeta does _not_ want you-"

"Give me that phone," Elizabeta practically snarled, stalking into the kitchen toting a suffocating aura of feminine wrath. Snatching it up, she let out a low hiss. "Where the _hell _are you?"

"Liz… Lizzie?" His drink was thick in his voice, slurring almost beyond recognition. "Izzat you?"

With one look at the increasingly murderous expression on the young woman's (generally) beautiful face, Ludwig took his leave and in the safety of his bedroom.

"I'm calling a taxi and coming over there, Gilbert," she warned. "And the moment I get there, I swear to God I'm going to strangle you with my bare hands."

"Well then, h… hurry over, wouldja?"

Even when he was beyond her vision, she could still make out his obnoxiously (undeniably attractive) sneer.

"You've got fifteen minutes left to live starting now."

* * *

><p>"Well?" Francis cooed, raising a brow from his place leaned up against the payphone box. "How did it go, hn?"<p>

"She's comin' over…" The albino groaned softly, just barely supporting himself. "Aw hell… What'm I gonna do, Francis? She's gonna kill me."

"You might try sobering up a little, _mon cher_. Women rarely enjoying having to deal with drunks."

"Shaddup."

"Tell me, before your _petite amie_ arrives, what was it you did to start this mess, hm?" He lounged against the bar with his jaw cradled in his palm.

Gilbert glowered in response. "What makes ya think I started it?"

"Are you really asking that?"

"She hit me first!"

The ghost only fixed him with a look that asked bluntly that he hurry up and confess already.

"I… I wen' t'get her a ring… back at Mr. Hassan's place… an' she got mad 'cuz I… I was gone all morning…"

"Well, what did you tell her when you got back?"

"I told 'er it was none o' her business where I went."

Francis looked staggered, and the question of his intoxicated companion's intelligence could be read quite clearly in his eyes. "Gilbert, did it ever once occur to you that what you said sounded very much like what one would say to a spouse during an affair?"

"A-an affair?" Unsteady eyes fastened onto the deceased Frenchman in stupefied realization. "But… but I wasn'… I was getting' her a ring, an'…"

"You're an idiot, _mon ami,_ you know?"

Smacking himself ungracefully (and a good deal harder than he'd intended) on the forehead, the albino man let out a loud cry of defeat before collapsing with his forearms to the bar. He snatched up his drink and downed what was left there, slouching pathetically. "I'm a dead man."

Francis just grinned in that aggravatingly condescending manner that only he could express so effortlessly. "Well, how about you lend _ton grand frère _your ear and let him handle the damage control, _ouí?_"

* * *

><p>When Elizabeta threw the door open, the bar fell into an icy silence. It seemed that the men there were no fools – they could sense very well the wrath of the opposite sex, and she had burst in practically reeking of it. Several of the onlookers felt themselves shriveling from the force of her stare, though it rested pointedly on a rather far-gone fellow sagging on his stool. His beer-nursing compatriots let slip quick prayers for his safety and for the safety of his reproductive organs as the young woman stalked across the room to seize him up by his wrinkled t-shirt.<p>

"You take off without an excuse, steal my car, and come here to get wasted? What the hell's wrong with you?"

The disgust in her voice made Gilbert wince, his entire face straining with the action. "H-hold on, Liz, i's more th'n-"

"'Hold on'?" she all but snarled. "You clearly have no idea what deep shit you're in, Gilbert. You're virtually _drowning_ in shit right now, so I'm going to try this one more time. What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"Take her outside, _mon ami_," Francis advised, peering over Elizabeta's shoulder at him. "You don't want to pose your question in a wretched dump like this."

Considering this carefully (or as carefully as possible at his current level of intoxication), the albino managed to choke out, "L-le's talk 'bout this outside… 'kay?"

"Fine. I don't want any witnesses, anyway." Growling, she hauled him to his feet and took up his arm to help drag him away. When they reached the exit, the brunette turned to shoot ocular lasers at the remaining patrons before slamming the door behind her. Had she been listening, she might have heard the collective sigh of relief that was heaved as she disappeared from sight.

"Start talking," Elizabeta commanded. Refusing to meet her boyfriend's bloodshot eyes, she searched the parking lot for her car.

"I didn' wanna hafta tell you like this," Gilbert began, clutching her shoulders with desperate intensity. "I didn' wanna… wanna fuck this up…"

"Too late."

The finality in her tone just about crushed him.

"… I love you, Liz."

Her gaze was callous and hard. "I'm too pissed to give that a proper answer."

"I love you… God, I love you…"

"Gilbert, you're completely smashed. Shut up and help me find my car."

Francis drifted between them, waving his hand impatiently in the universal sign for "stop fucking around and just ask her already, dumbass".

"I wanna… want you t'marry me…"

His words became jumbled together, mushing into some unintelligible blathering that only served to further his girlfriend's irritation. "Save it. I'm not in the mood."

"Liz, c-c'mon… hear me out, wouldja?"

Whirling to face him, Elizabeta released her hold and glared down at him where he'd collapsed. With arms crossed and lips frowning, she drew in a breath that seemed liable to split her chest for the emotional swell trapped there. She spat, "You've got ten seconds."

"I didn' wanna do it like this…" he muttered softly, rooting through his pockets. Finally, withdrawing a small, velvet box that had definitely seen better days, he brought his pawnshop find out into the crisp, autumn night. "Liz… 'Lizbeta… I really, really didn' wanna be trashed f'r this…"

When he rose up on one knee, wobbling for balance and cursing under his breath, her heart skipped a beat. She gaped wordlessly, her brain suddenly not functioning properly.

"Sh-shit…" A spasm of panic crossed the albino's clumsy, flushed face as he caught sight of her expression. Dropping the boxed cause of his suffering, he lunged forward and grasped her around the waist. "God, I'm s- sorry f'r all this… Don' leave me, Liz. Oh, God, don' leave…"

"Gilbert…"

His shoulders shook as he buried his face in her stomach, arms tightening stubbornly. "I know it's not great livin' with me 'n' West, an'… an' you're finishin' up school t' be an ambassador an' get some job in Hungary where I'll never see ya 'gain, but… Aw God, Liz, I love you…"

Should she have been able to see the French spirit before them, Elizabeta would have found him shaking his head for the lost cause of a man sniveling at her feet as amusement teased his lips into a smirk.

"Gilbert, I…" She inhaled, trying to steady herself. "I'm not going to… I wasn't going to leave you. I just wanted you to tell me where the hell you were this morning."

"I was…" His hands tightened into fists against her back. "I was ring shoppin', Liz."

"Oh really?"

"I was ring shoppin' f'r you…"

"And what'd you find?" For a brief moment, she was glad he was drunk and wouldn't hear the surprise, the hope, in her voice.

"I wanna be with you f'rever."

"Gilbert…"

"Will… will you-?"

"Wait!"

Gilbert blinked up at her, fear dancing in his glazed eyes. Slowly, she reached down to cup his face, her thumb tracing small circles against his cheekbone.

"I agree. I don't want you to be trashed for this, either."

The world stopped.

"L-Liz?"

"Get up, you idiot." With laughter jangling in her relieved, happy words, Elizabeta pulled Gilbert upright. "How about this? We go home, you sleep on the couch, I lecture the hell out of you tomorrow morning when it hurts, then you drop down on your knee and ask away. Sound like a plan to you?"

"Yes," he whispered against her neck, pressing reverent kisses to the warm flesh. "Thank you…"

"Don't be thanking me yet," the young woman warned, unable to conceal her excitement. "You've got a whole morning of hell to survive before I let you ask me anything."

Stooping awkwardly to retrieve the battered ring case, he straightened with a lazy shrug. "I could… could live through thousands o' those mornings… I could, s'long as you were with me…"

"Shut up, _mon ami_," Francis advised him airily, following them to the car. "_Mon Dieu,_ learn to quit while you're ahead."


End file.
